Lyrium lines
by SarahLunaaa
Summary: The story of Dragon age 2 with my own twist. Fenris has secrets and a dark past, little does he know Hawke does too. My own twist on Hawke and the story of dragon age 2, I will stray off a bit etc. This story will be rated M, as it contains rape scenes, torture and sex.
1. Chapter one

Chapter one- Starting again.

Soooo! Hi guys, basically with the new Dragon Age game coming out I've recently been going back to the two other games and making sure I get the perfect story and looking around at rumours etc. from the new game. What made me sad is there is no mention of a certain Tevinter elf? What. On. Earth!? But anyways, I'm going into my usual rants. Please, message me if you see a grammar mistake and I'll change it as soon as possible. I just thought I should tell everyone beforehand I am dyslexic. I thought I'd add some of my own things into the story just to give a lot more character depth and even more story to Hawke! Of course Fenris too! And I've started just after Hawke met Varric! :3

I would like to thank Enchantm3nt for being so amazing and helping me with all of this!

BIOWARE OWNS ALL.

Reviews are welcome!

_The distorted colours of the fallen leaves beneath her feet told her she was dreaming; everything had an odd hue to it and there was only silence where there should be bird song and the rustle of leaves. She looked around, her eyes searching, she was alone and yet she felt like she was being watched. Her eyes travelled up the gnarled trunk of a tree to the twisting branches above, the sky was the odd greenish hue that the Fade always was, lit by an unnatural dim light. _

_A shiver ran down her spine and she froze; her eyes moved down and locked onto the dark green ones of a great wolf. Its coat was a dark grey, the colour of storm clouds but it was covered in the most beautiful sinuous white markings. She cocked her head to the side, discerning if it was a demon or not, she rather thought it wasn't. She took a cautious step toward it and the wolf bolted. Curiosity got the better of her and she gave chase, sprinting through the trees, ducking under branches and leaping over fallen logs. The wolf kicked up leaves and mud as it charged through the dense woodland, and then suddenly, the trees cleared and they were on a grassy bank, a cliff just beyond. The wolf's strange white markings were glowing fiercely; it looked over its shoulder, glancing at her with its dark green eyes before it jumped off of the cliff. A gasp escaped her mouth and she found herself following after it, not really knowing why. _

Hawke woke up covered in sweat, lying on the very edge of her cot, with her hands grasping her tightly. She slowly sat up, breathing deeply. She often had dreams so that wasn't surprising. But she'd never had one about a mysterious wolf with strange markings, and she'd certainly never taken her own life in one before.

Light streamed in through the small window so she forced herself up and out of the cot. She headed over to her basin, tying back her long blonde strands as she looked at herself in the mirror. She checked the edges of her green eyes, making sure no wrinkles lined the edges. She ruffled her fringe, pulling out the red streak she was rather fond of and then got dressed.

She heard the muffled groans of her brother, Carver behind her as he stirred from sleep. He cursed quietly, obviously annoyed she had woken him as he rolled out of his cot and joined her at the basin to get ready for the day.

"We're no longer smugglers, sister, we don't have to be up at this hour anymore," Carver sighed as he licked his hand and flattened down an errant strand of his jet black hair.

"Well, we need to be _something_ or we won't be able to live in Lowtown for much longer," she replied, grabbing her armour.

"We cannot draw too much attention to ourselves either," Carver grumbled. "The Templars here are stupid, but the people are not. They are starving and won't blink an eye at handing over a Fereldan apostate if it means their family is fed," he said, a stern look on his face as he peered at her through the slightly cracked mirror.

"Yes, but I'm not a mage, I'm a loveable rogue." She grinned. "In one hand I hold dexterity and in the other cunning!" Hawke laughed, winking at her brother.

Carver swirled round to face her, his eyebrow raised and a sceptical grin on his face. "And in your third a fireball? And in the fourth ice? Perhaps father forgot to cover human anatomy with you but you only have _two_ hands, dear sister."

Hawke did not find the comment about father funny, nor did she enjoy the lecture from her little brother, who just the night before had tried to sneak into the Blooming Rose, a well-known brothel in Hightown with not a penny in his pocket. The money he did have he had spent on cheap ale with Varric; he had gotten so drunk that he had thought heading to the Rose was a marvellous idea. According to Varric, he had been kicked out within four minutes of arriving. "If we make a name for ourselves, the Templars won't bother me, and you could maybe afford to lose your virginity in the Blooming Rose like you wanted to so badly," she snapped back, revealing the knowledge she had gained from Varric about last night's events.

Her brother's face paled and then turned a bright red, his hands gripped the basin and in a small voice he pleaded, "Don't tell mama, please Aria."

She laughed. "Not this time, but maybe I could put it on my list of _things to bribe Carver with_ if he tries getting high and mighty with me?" She smirked as he glared at her. "Hurry up, it's time for breakfast and then it'll be time to meet Varric!"

She walked out of the bedroom and into the small decrepit room of her uncle's house that served as a dining room and a living room and a kitchen all in one. There was literally no room to swing a cat, never mind having her mother, brother, uncle and her dog living in the same small space with her.

Mother's mug was on the table, steam still rising from it. It was actually father's mug, it was one of the few things mother had been able to grab in time when they fled their home. Just seeing it sat on the table as the fruity scent of tea filled her nose, was enough to remind her of him. _Had it really been seven years since he died?_

She could still remember him perfectly. His dark hair, thick and slightly curled at the edges around his face, his thick beard that scratched against her skin when he kissed her good night and his bright smile and booming laugh. She'd always been close with him due to the magic they shared.

He had taught her to embrace her magic, to love it and revel in the wonders of it. But he had also taught her to hide it from a world that did not understand it, a world that feared it. Her father had been running from those who feared it all his life. He had never been caught since his escape, until that night.

She knew little of what happened. It had been a normal day, she had been with him much of the afternoon as part of their usual lessons, studying the lore of magic. That night, her father had gone into the woods and had not come back. She had waited up until her eyes wouldn't stay open, waiting for him. She had drifted into the Fade for the first time in her life and her father had come to her, rushing to her side, panic in his eyes.

"Go outside, Aria. You must go outside!" he had almost shouted at her and before she could say more he had keeled over and vanished from the Fade.

She had jumped out of her bed in her nightgown and screamed for her mother to follow her as she ran outside.

She ran past the farms and over the bridge to the edge of the woods, her feet seemingly knowing where to go. Her mother had not followed her and had instead stayed behind with the two younger Hawke children. Hawke had found her father slumped against a tree, blood pouring from his side and his face scrunched up in agony. She had tried to help him up but she could not.

He had clutched her hand and stared into her eyes. "You will _never_ be alone, my brave girl."

Her mother had caught up with her along with their neighbour, Old Barlin, who had known about the Hawke family and their secret for many years. He had looked at Malcolm Hawke's wound for not even a second before speaking. "He was shot with an arrow, one laced with Magebane."

Her mother had hoisted her father up with the aid of Old Barlin, and had dragged him home into their bed. She had cleaned his wound, and Hawke had helped her.

Old Barlin had looked at them sympathetically. "He has an hour at the most. It's poisoning his blood, making the lyrium kill him from the inside. It's illegal to have such a herb."

But her father had not died within an hour.. It had taken four days for the magebane to destroy her father completely. She had read tomes to him, pretending that they were studying magic lore and that he had just been overcome with a slight illness. The twins had not understood, they had thought their father was just sick. On the third day, he had started to become erratic, screaming terrible things: that he needed to run, that he wanted his mama and that she should not have been made tranquil just for loving another mage. He had screamed most of the day of how it was his fault and had only calmed down when their mother had come back from farming the land, to sing a lullaby to him. He had been instantly mesmerised and calmed by her soulful voice; he had smiled and said to her that she was beautiful.

On the fourth day, he had been still and quiet. His skin had been an off-grey, and he had slept for most of it. She had still pulled out her book and read to him. She had begun on a new book and was about to read about the lore of fire magic to him, when he grabbed her hand.

"I won't last much longer. They were coming for you, so I told them it was I that they sought. I love you very much, Aria. You have always made me so proud, and I bet you anything that you will make me prouder. Take care of them for me," he had whispered in a croaky voice.

She had kissed his hand and had tried to smile at her father, just to make sure his last days were not full of sadness and despair. She had gotten up to get her mother to come watch over him but her father's hand did not let her go. She had turned around and seen her father's green eyes staring at her. And yet they had not been his eyes anymore. They had become milky and were not truly looking at her. She had keeled over in shock and sobbed loudly, waking the entire house.

Hawke grabbed the pitcher of water, and poured it into a glass that was already set out for her. Her mother had always gotten up earlier than them so she could make them breakfast. But thinking about her father had brought on another flashback and it had made her almost choke on her water as she attempted to take a sip.

_She remembered the pain, she let out one hollowed scream as her jet black hair lost every inch of its darkness as if her scream had turned it a dazzling white. _

Hawke blinked and continued drinking, waiting for her sibling and her breakfast.

Leandra Hawke walked in to the small dingy room and lit the fire, Hawke looked at her mother; she was old now. Her hair was grey and the poverty they had to live in was making her look so much worse. And yet her mother carried on, she did not complain about her life and she cleaned up after them all with not a word or a complaint.

"Eggs for breakfast, Aria?" she chimed, already cracking the eggs into a pan over the pathetic excuse for an oven that Gamlen had.

"Sure thing, mama. Carver will be out soon too," she replied, noticing her mother eyeing their bedroom door.

"I thought your brother would be sleeping for the rest of the day after getting in so late last night," she said sternly but with a hint of amusement.

Her mother turned to look at her with a questioning look; she knew that her mother wanted all the details but she promised Carver she would not tell her.

"Oh yeah, he stayed behind and tried to outdrink Varric when me and Aveline left for home," she lied as her mother passed her a slice of bread and her scrambled eggs.

"Well, next time bring him home with you, I worry he's going to do something stupid," her mother pleaded light hearteningly, although Hawke detected that it had a note of seriousness to it.

"Most of the time I have to drag Aria home, mama, and you never complain to her!" Carver retorted as he stolled out of the bedroom and took the plate of food his mother offered him.

Hawke laughed as she watched her brother dig into the food with the same technique as her mabari, Spike did.

"So children, what are you going to be doing today? Actually, don't tell me, my hair will go more grey and I don't have the gold for hair dye these days." Her mother chuckled.

"Not much really Mother, just seeing a few contacts. We need to raise some money to get to the deep roads. Varric says that there is a dwarf looking for someone to find his lost cargo and it will be easy coin. Other than that, we can see where the day takes us!"

And with that, the two siblings grabbed their weapons and other supplies and headed out to the Hanged Man to meet their dwarven friend.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two.

Isabela.

She perched on the rickety bar stool, her elbows resting on the sticky surface of the bar, a pitcher of whisky between her hands – her only friend. Well, she thought noticing all the men staring at her bronze thighs and her breasts almost popping out of her white top, her only _real_ friend. She smiled at the men watching her and decided to give them a little of what they wanted; she lifted her leg up high to tie her boot strap. Maker, she loved it when they drooled.

The door swung open and in one quick moment all of the men were either looking down at their drinks or staring at the new arrival. Isabela's stomach dropped. She desperately needed a pick me up after the terrible week she had been having.

Worry ate away at her, if Castillon didn't know yet, he soon would. She had lost her ship, her crew and the relic that she had tracked down and stolen for him. In other words, she was neck deep in shit.

She looked up from her drink and saw that most of the men in the tavern were staring at the woman that had entered just moments ago. The new arrival was gorgeous. Isabela had always been hot and fun but this other rogue was at the other end of the spectrum.

.

She had long white hair, the complete opposite to Isabella's chocolate curls that she had carelessly tied into her bandana. Where Isabela was sun kissed and curvy the other rogue's skin was as white as snow, and she had pretty red lips and green eyes that looked around the room skittishly, eyeing out trouble. She was elegant and there was an air of beauty to her that made Isabela, for the first time in her life, have low self-esteem. She was dirty from not washing for five days, her clothes were ragged and her hair was wrecked from her being in the ocean for too long.

But it was not just the rogue that had caught her eye; it was the man next to her that stood so close that it was as if he was protecting her from the air itself. _Were they lovers_? No, she thought as she compared the two carefully, noticing the same eyebrows and the same skittish look on their faces. Siblings.

Maker, her brother was a dish too; she smiled as the rogue walked up to the bar where she sat.

"Hello, I've not seen you in here before. Beware of the men here; you're nothing but tits and ass to them," Isabella chimed as she introduced herself.

She looked at the woman, who stared up at her with one eyebrow raised, noticing the freshly sharpened daggers at her back. She looked like she could handle herself, yet it wasn't the daggers that made Isabella think this, it was something she could taste in the woman's presence. A building aura, something was hiding beneath those daggers. Someone likeHer would be mighty handy in a fight against Haydar.

"Well, don't mind me if I don't take that warning seriously from a woman that has both on display." She smiled and then glanced at her brother. "Put your tongue away brother," she scolded lightly.

Isabela smirked, winking at the chagrined man before turning back to the woman. "You look like someone I could trust to watch my back. I have a problem, you see." Isabella started to say but the woman's brother let out a very loud snort.

"Why is it problems always seek us out?"

The woman smiled at this, a full toothy grin. "Go on," She urged, permitting Isabella to continue.

"Someone has been bothering me for a while now. I want to have a duel with him but I don't trust him to play by the rules. I think he's going to be surrounded by friends so I want to bring some of my own," Isabela explained, watching the other rogue intently.

The woman did not change her facial expression throughout her explanation. When she stopped talking, she eyed the woman who seemed for a moment lost in thought and then after what felt like hours the woman grinned.

"Who's this person you've arranged to meet?" she asked, a coy grin on her face.

Isabela finally let out a breath of relief.

"His name is Hayder; we worked together back in Antiva. He's never liked me. He's been asking for me all around Kirkwall, thought I'd get it over with," Isabela replied, watching the woman's facial expression again.

"And why does he want to hurt you so badly? Did you tell him he was nothing but tits and ass too?" she joked, trying to act like this wasn't an interrogation but Isabela could tell whatever she said next was vital to the woman helping her.

"I've been trying to track down something I lost for a previous employer, and I failed to do it. It doesn't matter right now, this is much more important," she said, trying to change the subject away from the topic of the relic.

The woman eyed her for a moment, her eyebrow raised as if she wanted to know more of the story. But Isabela kept her mouth shut; the less the woman knew the better.

"I suppose I could manage watching your back, and if we have anything to fight along the way, we get first call on the valuables," the woman said, winking at Isabella.

"I think that sounds like a deal. My name is Isabela," she said with a coy curtsey, showing off her bosom to the woman's boy went bright red, much to her delight.

"I am Hawke and this is my brother, Carver. When do you plan to confront this dear friend of yours?" Hawke asked, her tone becoming business-like.

"My contacts telling me he is meeting with his informant tonight at the chantry, if you meet me here just after dusk we can get on with it and maybe after I can get on you," Isabela joked. Well it was a half-joke she thought, looking at the pretty young rogue's flawless pale skin and strange coloured hair.

"Well, I hate to break it to you but I don't tend to go for the ladies, my brother swings that way or at least tries to." Hawke chortled.

The younger Hawke sibling grunted at this and rolled his eyes, his cheeks flushed pink. He wasn't too bad to look at either, thought Isabela.

"Hawke? I could have gone and got Andraste's ashes and been back by now, you nug humper!" a voice from the top of the stairs shouted at her.

Isabela turned towards the voice and saw a dwarf with no beard but a lot of chest hair standing at the top of the stairs. Maker, did she like chest hair on a man!

"I'll see you tonight, Isabela," Hawke said politely and walked up the stairs to where the dwarf had called her.

Isabela could feel it in her pirate bones; the rogue she had just met would bring excitement into life. One way or another.


	3. Chapter 3

Hiya guys, sorry I am dragging the meeting of the characters out here. I know, I know! Bad Luna! But honestly please just tell me what you guys want, and as long as it keeps in with the story then of course your wish is my command! I thought I'd round up a few introductions or the start of them in this chapter. People always seem to run to Hawke for help whilst she's working other jobs! I am really relying on spell checker but I am trying not to do so terrible with my spelling! This is rather short, it's basically just a bit of Varric!

Chapter three

The start of introductions

"Sorry my dear, dear dwarf. I got distracted by another offer of work! I came in with the pure intentions of buying a pitcher of varren piss and bringing it straight to your humble abode when I was ambushed by a woman wearing nothing but a table cloth!" Hawke said dramatically, making Varric chuckle at his new friend's humour.

He took a look at rivaini woman at the bar and just nodded in agreement. "Table cloth indeed! More coin to save for this blighted expedition however! So, what is on the agenda today?" Varric asked.

Life had certainly become more interesting with Hawke about. And he'd only known her a week. He smiled at the thought of what could happen in a few months if he just stayed by this loveable rogue. He'd already found out her biggest secret within days of meeting her. They'd hit it off like a house on fire and she had told him, making him promise never to tell a living soul. Junior hadn't been impressed, but she had insisted on telling him as they were going to be business partners, so he had the right to know the truth about her. Varric also knew that Hawke would sooner die than use her abilities, not that she would ever need such things; she was skilled with those twin daggers of hers.

"Well, we need to see Aveline; she mentioned last night she had some work for us. Then there's your dear friend Anso who you said had an "easy" job for us. And then you said that there's a Grey Warden in town that might help us get some maps, so we'll go meet him and see if we can't play a good game of swapsies! Later on I've agreed to help the, ahem, lady over there that has misplaced her clothes," Hawke recited, with a hint of humour laced throughout.

Varric laughed again at her quick wit and humour, maker, he could see him and Hawke being friends forever. She was easy to get along with, charming, in fact, and not bad on the eyes for a human.

He had known Hawke a few weeks, and already he swore he would protect his new best friend. Not that she needed it but there was something soft and broken in her eyes. She wouldn't let on what it was, in all the time he had spent with her these last few weeks he had never known her to get upset or disheartened by anything that happened. She always had a quick comment with a bit of humour in there, but Varric could see something underneath and it made him wonder what haunted her so.

He had a good feeling about Hawke though and all the way through his life he had relied on that beautiful son-of-a-bitch that was luck. He smiled at that thought.

They drank the last of their morning ale and started to walk to the keep. It was going to be a long day.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four.

Anders

Anders could feel his mana slipping away, pouring out of his hands, his reserves depleting far too quickly as he struggled to heal the boy. The child was wasting away and required extensive healing, at the parent's begs and sobs Anders had continued, only stopping to chug the occasional lyrium potion as he poured his magic into the child. He drew on Justice's resolve, on his strength and his power and poured everything he had into the boy, praying to the Maker it would be enough.

Just as he thought he would collapse, the boy woke and took a huge gulp of air. The boy sat up slowly, slightly dazed and his parents embraced him, showering him in kisses. They all looked up and smiled at Anders as he slumped back against one of the pillars in his clinic. That look of pure elation always made his work worth it, knowing he had saved a life.

Anders had never been able to stay in one place for very long. He didn't like being controlled or corralled or pushed around. He'd always been a free spirit, a wanderer, constantly moving from one place to the next. But since merging with Justice he had found a sense of purpose, he ceased his aimless travels and escapes and finally had a reason to stay put somewhere. And for that he was very grateful.

Despite being exhausted he was suddenly on edge, Justice pressing at his mind, desperate for control. Anders pushed him down, but drew on his strength as he grabbed his staff and swivelled around to face the armed people now entering his clinic.

"I HAVE MADE THIS A PLACE OF HEALING AND SALVATION! WHY DO YOU THREATEN IT?" he bellowed at the intruders, Justice fuelling him.

"Well, we must have that look about us, Varric. Not even been here two seconds and we're already threatening stuff!" the woman that stood in front of the group chimed, making the dwarf to her right and the woman in the guard-armour laugh.

He looked at the woman that was staring at him sarcastically. She was Fereldan, he could tell that much with her pale skin. She was a beautiful woman, and the kind that a year ago Anders would have followed to the end of Thedas he thought to himself as he admired her red lips and playful green eyes.

**This one uses her daggers to deceive you. She is a mage. ** Justice said bluntly to Anders whose eyes widened. A mage that was ashamed of her powers, another reason that his plight was so important! The Templars and the damn Chantry had bullied mages into blood magic and resorting to this sort of hiding. Anders wondered what had happened to the mage to make her completely abandon her powers and wear such a mask.

The dwarf and the guardswoman looked amused at their leader, whereas the boy at the back looked at Anders and only Anders as if he was the danger in the room.

"I find a mage that hides the fact she is a mage accompanied by warriors to be somewhat threatening. Ever tried knocking?" Anders asked, harshly. He would not befriend this woman.

"I did once and no one answered and pretended to be out! I was so sad! And oh Maker you've found out my secret, are you going to clap me in irons and send me to the Gallows?" she said playfully, raising her eyebrow again.

"Yes, and whilst I'm there I'm going to declare my love to the Knight-Commander and ask for her hand in marriage!" Anders laughed, dropping his guard.

"Ooooh! Can I be a bridesmaid? I'll throw the petals down as she walks up the altar chanting the rite of tranquillity! It'll be beautiful!" the woman retorted back, making Anders laugh even more.

"**Do not drop your guard to this mage so quickly Anders, you do not know why she is here. She could be with the Wardens!"** Justice bellowed in Ander's mind, making him wince.

Anders stopped laughing now and stared at the woman before him.

"You still haven't answered my question. Are you with the Wardens? I am not going back to the blighted Wardens, they made me get rid of my cat!" Anders snorted, angry with the memory of the new Orlesian commander that had replaced the Queen of Ferelden and how he had got angry at Anders and Ser-Pounce-a-lot saying that the cat had made him soft.

"I am not with the Wardens. I-wait they made you get rid of your cat?" she said with a coy grin.

"**Anders do not drop your guard down again with this woman." **Justice warned him.

"If you are not Grey Wardens then what do you want from me?" Anders asked, staring at the woman who in an instance went from coy to serious.

"We heard that you had maps for entrances to the Deep Roads, I would like to buy them," she said, her eyes watching for Ander's reaction.

Maker, she had beautiful eyes, Anders thought. They reminded him of Ferelden, of the green hills in the summer.

"I have no interest in your gold," he stated, and yet he was still staring into her eyes. Electricity sparked even though he felt Justice try to rein it in. For a moment, he felt like he did a year ago.

"**This girl influences your thoughts too much already. Although her aid to get your fellow mage out of the Chantry as a trade for the maps she desires seems a lot safer than the plan you had for us to storm in," **Justice said, his voice seemed on tenterhooks, well as much as Justice's voice could be.

"Although a favour for a favour…does that sound like a fair deal?" he asked her, still examining her face and eyes.

"It does, as long as it doesn't involve children or animals, then I am your girl!" she said playfully, smiling slightly.

The boy behind her seemed disgusted at the banter that he and the woman were sharing, as if it was insulting to see her laugh like this. Maybe he saw Anders as a threat; he did seem quite skittish, looking at the way out and Anders a lot.

"I came to Kirkwall to aid a fellow mage who is trapped in the wretched gallows. I suspect the Templars know something of my plans as they have doubled their patrols recently and he has not been able to pass me as many messages lately.

Help me get him out and you will have your maps." Anders replied, not allowing himself to be taken in by her charms. The woman had left Justice irked and that did not happen very often, he could still feel that Justice was annoyed. But that did not bother him as much as it used to, he smiled at the way she said _your girl_.

"That seems reasonable to me, just tell me where and when," she answered.

"Tomorrow at the Chantry at night, I will meet you in the courtyard. You never told me your name." Anders pointed out.

"No. I did not, but I tell you nonetheless since you asked me so politely. I am Hawke. My brother is the warrior behind me, he is Carver. The charming dwarf is Varric and the guardswoman is Aveline." She introduced them and they all murmured hellos. Anders got the impression they were not so keen on him, not as much Hawke was. She seemed like the sort of person who was energetic about most things.

"My name is Anders," he stated back to them.

"Well, Anders. I must go and get myself into more mischief for now, but I shall see you tomorrow!" she promised a glint of roguery.

He watched her walk out of the clinic and found himself lingering on the door.

"**She will not want you Anders, especially if she finds out about me," **Justice whispered sternly.

"Oh shut up," Anders muttered out loud and went back to his duties.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter five **

**Fenris will be here soon! I promise you!**

**Thank you once again to my Beta Enchantm3nt! Without you helping me I don't think I'd have even written this far! :D You're amaaaaazing!**

**Isabela part two**

Isabela waited at the hanged man for the woman; in fact she hadn't moved much from the tavern all day. She was too worried that she would run into trouble without the woman's aid. She felt more comfortable in taverns, they were familiar to her. The scent of piss and ale soothed her when she was worried.

She played with her mug of ale, her fingers loosely skimming the rim of the top of the mug. She wouldn't blame the woman if she did not come to help her. If the tables were turned then Isabela wouldn't even dream of helping someone without the promise of gold or sex.

Whilst she waited she listened to the patrons talk.

"Fucking Qunari, self-righteous horned bastards, on top of everything in this shit hole!" one of the patrons exclaimed, banging his hand on the table.

"Blame the Viscount for that fuck up. He could have told 'em to take a long walk off of a short cliff, but no, the coward gave them a sodding plot of land for them to settle in. The last thing this city needs is more fucking people in it after all the sodding refugees flocked here. And we definitely don't need no more religious nutters either, they can take their Blighted Qun and shove it up their arses," the other replied angrily, ending his rant with a belch.

"Balls," she muttered under her breath, they'd followed her here.

Castillion she could she could handle…she just needed to find his relic and return it, no biggie. But the _Qunari_…she wouldn't be able to reason with them, they'd kill her or worse _use_ her. They didn't like to _waste_ things.

Isabela downed the rest of her drink at the thought of more trouble, just as she did the door swung open and the woman she spoke to earlier came in accompanied by a dwarf, the warrior she had met before and a red haired giant of a woman donning guards armour and a Templar shield.

"I thought you'd forgotten about me, sweet thing!" she purred, making the woman's brother blush.

"Me! Forget a damsel in distress? You have already met me and my brother. The handsome dwarf with the forest of chest hair is Varric, my business partner. And this lady here is Aveline, soon to become captain Aveline after today's events!" Hawke said to her, a playful yet proud tinge in her voice.

"A pleasure to meet you!" she said

"Well now the formalities are done with, let's get down to business," Hawke said, looking around at the drunken patrons in the pub. Isabela could tell that Hawke enjoyed a drink just by the way she watched the drunken patrons with envy.

"I don't think we'll have time for drinks tonight sister, after all we have to meet Anso after this," Carver said to the elder Hawke in a stern voice.

Isabela smiled at the younger Hawke sibling, he was good looking and young. Exactly how she liked her men.

Hawke rolled her eyes and grunted with agreement and annoyance.

"Oooh your brother is the bossy type, I like bossy," Isabela purred again, looking straight at Carver.

Carver glanced at her, then her breasts and then back to her. After that he must have decided that he wouldn't look at her again as he kept his gaze to the floor.

"Her I like!" The dwarf that had been introduced Varric said, looking at her in amusement.

They had set off towards Hightown, Isabela had immediately hit it off with the dwarf and the younger brother, but the guardswoman didn't seem like the kind of woman she would normally get along with. She was different from her, instead of joining in with the sexual innuendos and jokes she merely tutted. _Maker what a prude_, thought Isabela.

Hawke had taken to walking in front of them all, almost as if she thought she could sense danger before it came to them. Isabela looked at her and frowned. The fellow rogue obviously didn't know how sensual the sway of her hips was. She walked almost like a feline poised and ready to attack.

This woman was so different to herself. What you saw was what you got with Isabela…everything was always on display and she liked it that way, she wanted her body as free as her mind. But Hawke…she kept her assets carefully hidden and gave nothing away. Isabela was almost envious of her, Isabela had to flaunt what she had to get people to look at her but the other rogue didn't and somehow still commanded the attention of the whole room or street.

They walked towards the courtyard, which seemed to be completely empty. Hawke, however, stood in the middle of it, her eyes scanning every inch while they lingered in the shadows.

"We are not alone!" she shouted to Isabela and the others, just as an army of rogues and warriors alike shot out of the shadows like confetti out of a party popper.

Hawke unsheathed her daggers, spinning them in a complex motion before dropping into a defensive stance as the attackers drew near. Isabela ran to her side, the warriors not far behind. Little Hawke and the carrotop guard were the first to attack, drawing most of the enemies toward them. Isabela slipped in between targets, her blades flowing effortlessly from slitting the throat of one to stabbing another. She kept stealing glances at Hawke who remained at her back, mirroring her moves and slicing with catlike grace and agility. It was the grin on Hawke's face though that really caught Isabela's eye. With every enemy Hawke felled her grin grew larger until she was almost laughing with glee. Isabela hadn't seen such obvious blood lust for a long time, she couldn't help but wish Hawke had been with her on her ship, perhaps then she wouldn't have had to sacrifice everything in the storm.

The last enemy fell, their heads lopped off by the younger Hawke's impressive sword. Yes, she rather liked the way his muscles rippled when he swung the impressive weapon, she couldn't help but wonder what _other_ impressive weapons he had on him.

Isabela smiled at Hawke as she wiped the gore from her daggers, Hawke did the same, returning her smile, her face covered in blood and filth, not that the rogue seemed to care. Yes, Isabela definitely wished she had met Hawke sooner.

"Start checking the bodies, see if we can get the advantage on Hayder," Isabela barked, as her mind started to wander to images of her and Hawke hijacking pirate ships out on the open ocean, the sea breeze in their hair and grins on their faces. Perhaps they could roll naked in the gold they looted together…

She watched Hawke bend over and a smile spread up her lips once again, oh yes, she could definitely get behind that.

The dwarf with the delicious chest hair was sighing in annoyance as he bent over checking the corpses for loot. Isabela couldn't help but admire his broad chest and the way his chest hair glistened in the evening Sun. She liked chest hair.

"Not much gold to split up here, Hawke. Might pay for a round back at the Hanged Man, that's it," he said with another sigh.

"Well, at least we can have get a drink when it's over," Hawke said, smiling at the dwarf.

"It'll take more than one drink for you to get your hands on my chest hair, Hawke!" Varric exclaimed jokingly, waggling his eyebrows.

Isabela watched Hawke curiously, she didn't know the rogue very well, but it was obvious she was fun to be around… she might even be someone Isabela would stick around for, at least until she found the relic. Once she had that she was getting the hell out of the city and away from the Qunari before they recognised her.

"I doubt it; I've seen you eyeing me up, Varric. You know you'd love it," Hawke laughed, making her brother and the guardswoman laugh too. Maker, she even made the manly guardswoman laugh and Isabela had been trying to do that the whole way here.

"Well, I doubt these people were the ones you were looking for, right?" Hawke said to Isabela

"Don't be silly. I wouldn't have asked for your help if this is all I had to deal with. Although…watching you and your sibling might have been reason enough. I can't quite pick who I'd have first…" she purred. "Perhaps at the same time?" she added, more to herself than them. She smiled when the brother blushed furiously. _How adorable._

To her bitter disappointment Hawke didn't smile or blush, he only cocked an eyebrow and kept her mouth tight. Isabela nearly sighed, _what would it take to make her blush?_ It was as if she had a wall up, Isabela could almost see her flirting bouncing off of the damn thing. She had thought that the guardswoman was the prude, but apparently that wasn't the case, Hawke was the one with an invisible chastity belt on.

_I like a challenge though._

"There is a message here…" the dwarf muttered, eyeing a scrap of parchment. "Shit. Rivaini, these people that are out to get you are well…shit," he sighed.

"Well? Care to elaborate?"Carver groaned. The boy obviously just wanted to go home.

"If you would just hold on a sodding minute, junior, I was getting to that part! It says _bring the bitch to the Chantry, alive. Castillion wants to deal with her himself_." The dwarf looked up at her. "What did you do to make that man so angry with you? I can feel a story here!"

She tried to hide her discomfort, this was not something she wanted to discuss.

"Castillion is mad with me because I let some of his _precious cargo_ go. Five hundred slaves to be exact," she sighed. "To make up for the loss I had to get him something else but I lost it…it's a relic of sorts and he wants it back." Not a total lie. Not the whole truth either though.

Hawke was watching her, staring at her with those intense green eyes of hers, scrutinizing her. She felt like Hawke's eyes would pull the truth right out of her and she held her breath, waiting for Hawke's unbearable gaze to end, hoping Hawke wouldn't suddenly abandon her now.

"Right, enough of this lets go," Hawke ordered and they began to move to the Chantry.

They entered the Chantry, only a few candles lit the interior of the grand building, but she didn't need bright lights to see the man pacing in the centre of the room. _Hayder. _He turned to face them as soon as they walked through the doors, not hiding like the brutes outside had done. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, dark hair matching his dark eyes. She gasped a little as she realised just how _tired_ he looked. Perhaps he hadn't slept at all while he searched for her? If so, he was an idiot, everyone knew to look for her at the taverns and brothels before anywhere else.

"Isabela," Hayder said her name with a crinkle of his nose. "I should have known you'd find me here." He sneered at her, his gold teeth flashing in the moonlight filtering in through the high windows.

"Tell your men to burn the letters next time," she replied coolly. She felt much more confident with Hawke and her companions watching her back.

"Castillion was heartbroken when he heard about your ship wreck, you should have let him know that you were alive," Hayder countered, a sickly smile on his face.

"Well that must have slipped my mind," Isabela replied her voice coloured with humour as she shrugged.

"Where's the relic?" Hayder asked, his tone demanding.

"I lost it, Castillion is just going to have to do without," she stated, her voice taking a more serious note.

Hayder and the rest of his men were becoming more jumpy. She knew these ticks well, she saw them on sailors who were about to start a fight.

"You lost it? Like you lost a ship full of valuable cargo?" Hayder laughed, but his voice had begun to get louder. Isabela knew from previous dealings with Hayder that the little patience that he had was wearing thin.

"They weren't cargo, they were people!" she retorted back, anxious to just kill him and have done with it. He could be stalling, waiting for reinforcements and Isabela wanted to get him off her back and find the damned relic and then finally continue her life as it was before: full of blissful love making and decent ale.

"Castillion won't be happy to hear this, Isabela," he threatened with a grin that was getting slowly bigger with smugness.

"You know you don't have to tell Castillion about Isabela," Hawke cut in, interrupting their jolly reunion.

Hayder looked at Hawke, examining her for a moment with greedy eyes.

"Castillion doesn't like to be double crossed. And my life is worth more than hers," Hayder spat with disgust that Hawke had even considered that he would let her go.

Isabela was quite done talking, it was far too boring. And if there was one thing she hated it was boring.

"There is only one way to settle this," she said, her voiced sounding as bored as she felt.

She grabbed the small dagger on her hip, the one perfect for throwing and tossed the lithe blade at one of the raiders next to Hayder. The woman gurgled as she fell to the ground, dead. In seconds the fight began in earnest but her eyes were set on Hayder.

She could see Hawke weaving in and out of their attackers, seeking out her next target before the previous had even hit the ground dead. The warriors were doing their usual, drawing the stupid attackers to them in droves and she could hear the dwarf calling out in the distance, mocking their attackers, "Really, Hawke! I could do this in my sleep!" She smiled at that as she danced in closer to Hayder again. The cowardly bastard was trying to get away it made her lip curl to think that this man called himself a pirate but he had as much bravado as a mouse hiding in the Chantry as he had been.

She followed him to a dead end corridor in the hope that she had backed him into a corner but she gasped when Hayder ran up the wall and launched a smoke bomb, rendering her stunned for a moment. She mentally slapped herself for being so foolish as to forget she taught Hayder that trick years ago.

Hayder fled back towards the battleground and stopped in shock.

His men were all dead, and he had his back turned to Isabela as he stood looking at Hawke in shock.

"Good night, sweet dreams," Hawke purred menacingly, as she threw one of her daggers and it hit Hayder square between the eyes.

He crumpled to the ground without a sound.

But before Isabela could say any more, the younger Hawke looked around, noticing the sconces coming to life with flame around them and the noise from the upper levels as people awoke from their sleep. His eyebrows knitted together in worry as he took a fleeting glance at the dead bodies on the ground before looking back to the torches now burning and the long shadows being cast on the walls as they drew closer to them all…

"Sister we need to leave!" he called over at Hawke, her faced mirrored her

"Indeed we do brother, we're late." She gave a throaty laugh, turning to exit the Chantry.

Hawke bolted from the Chantry, throwing the doors open in a rush and her companions were quick on her tail. Isabela frowned as she chased after them wondering what on earth the hurry was. If the Templars and sisters had asked what was going on they could have said that they were stopping thieves or bandits. Isabela replayed Hawke's laugh over and over in her head as she jogged down the steps, it was a panicked laugh. Why would Hawke be panicked? The only people who feared Templars were apostates…She started to smile. One of the Hawke's was an apostate, there was no way the dwarf was or the guardswoman, the question was… which sibling? Not that it mattered much, it might be fun to try to figure out though while she was stuck in this damned city looking for the relic and avoiding Qunari.

They ran all the way to Lowtown before finally stopping, by which point Isabela was bent over panting. "Hey!" she gasped out. "I never got to say thank you!"

"It was a pleasure Isabela," Hawke said, her voice preparing to say farewell.

"Well it could be a pleasure over and over again, if you require my help," Isabela drawled, her hand on her hip leaning it to one side so her ass stuck out that bit more just to make her brother blush.

_This was definitely the most fun she'd had since coming to this city. _

Hawke scanned her for a moment; Isabela could tell she was debating with herself whether to allow her into her group. Maker, she felt like she was auditioning to be a part of some exclusive guild. It irked her that Hawke had to debate with herself; normally Isabela got whatever she wanted in an instant.

"I think this could be the start of a beautiful friendship," Hawke chuckled, her laugh sound like a wind chime.

"Or the start of something just as much fun," Isabela countered, her eyes lingering on Hawke and her brother. She liked to collect the sets if she could.

"Good. Since you've made a new friend, Hawke, she can take my place whilst you do illegal dealings with this dwarf," Aveline said as she waved a hand in Varric's direction. "Now that I'm captain, I don't think it's going to look good if I was caught helping you with such things," she finished, stifling a yawn.

"Indeed, come Isabela! Join our small band of misfits!" Hawke said dramatically, her arms wide and welcoming.

Isabela smiled, she knew life had just taken a drastic turn for the better.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter six **

**Anders part two**

**Just a few more chapters until Fenris! **

**Once again, thank you to my beta Enchantm3nt for being so great!**

**Reviews are welcome. **

Anders waited in the Chantry courtyard, eyes peeled as he glanced around, checking for signs of Templars. It was a cold night and his breath came out in white puffs to float away on the gentle breeze. He rubbed his hands together for the hundredth time trying to bring some heat to his frozen digits. It also gave him something to focus on other than the fact that Hawke was late. Her tardiness only added to his already frayed nerves. He couldn't help but worry that the Templars had seen through her act, had realised that she wasn't in fact a rogue at all. But he knew the timings of the Templar patrols and he knew that she knew them too. She would have her brother for protection as well and the dwarf, no doubt. She was just late. Nothing more, nothing less. And Anders had arrived extra early, it was his own fault his toes were now numb.

He was surprised a mage who hid her magic was willing to enter the Chantry with him, risking her own skin to help him, more than that though; she was willing to help him free a mage from the Gallows too. He couldn't help but think about the future, about the potential for them to continue to work together to help more mages…

"She does this for her own egotistical needs and not that of the mages," Justice commented, drawing him away from such thoughts.

Anders sighed. He wanted to know why Hawke hid her magic, there must have been some reason for it other than to keep herself safe, there was more to it than that. Why did she hate it so?

Anger rose in his throat, it was the Chantry's fault for putting fear in the heart of every person in Thedas, mages included. Everyone was taught that magic was to be feared and that mages could turn into abominations at any moment. It wasn't _right_ to just lock them away out of fear. It wasn't _right_ to give Templars such control and authority over mages. It wasn't _right_ to take children from their mother's skirts. He could feel Justice bristling, moving to the forefront of his mind, influencing his thoughts, pushing to take control. He swallowed thickly and then his shoulders sagged in relief as Hawke appeared and Justice simmered back down. He was glad she was safe and was surprised just _how_ relieved he was at that fact. She really did remind him of someone he used to know.

Hawke walked up to him in an almost feline prowl, he had no doubt in his mind that if Hawke wanted to become invisible then she could within an instant.

"Focus, Anders. We have a job to do," Justice reminded him as Anders' eyes continued to watched Hawke's swaying hips as she approached him.

His eyes flittered across her companions, her brother was at her side, and the dwarf her other side, behind her was a dusky skinned woman that looked vaguely familiar…she wasn't wearing much and she had a wicked gleam in her eyes as she approached him.

"Anders," Hawke said, nodding at him as if this was a business meeting instead of an escape attempt.

"Thank you for coming," he replied, as he looked at the other companions to thank them too.

"Let's save it Blondie. Ifyou want to say thank you, say it later, when we've got out of the Chantry," Varric interrupted before Anders could say another word.

"Blondie?" he questioned the dwarf who had given him the nickname.

"Well if you'd prefer, I could call you ponytail?" Varric joked with a twinkle in his eye.

"Blondie will be fine, thank you." Anders replied curtly, tightening his ponytail indignantly.

They had entered the chantry to find it silent, he noticed that Hawke's face has become unreadable and yet he knew that she was scared. He instantly felt bad for involving her in this rescue attempt as she had more to lose than he did. He had nothing, but Hawke had her brother. He took a quick look at her brother as he thought about and saw that Carver was glaring at Anders in disgust. Surely the fact that his sister was a mage would make it easier for him to be accepted by the younger Hawke, but apparently not.

They weaved their way through the bookcases and statues of the upper floors of the Chantry until they found the side room where he was supposed to meet Karl. He found his fellow mage standing with his back to him. Anders reached out for his shoulder, willing him to turn to face him; instead of warm eyes and a relieved smile though, he was greeted by dead eyes and a sullen look and the blazing sun of tranquility on Karl's forehead.

"Anders, I know you too well. I knew you would never give up. I was too rebellious, like you, I had to be made an example of," Karl said, his voice flat and emotionless.

"No!" Anders pleaded, his voice breaking. He was too late. Not Karl. Please not Karl. He was such a kind man, such a good man. He could feel Justice rearing his ugly head, pressing at every part of his mind. He was a Harrowed mage. This was not right. This could not be happening.

"The Templars will teach you a lesson too."

Anders swivelled around just as the sound of clattering plate armour approached them; several Templars had them surrounded. For a brief moment Anders caught a glimpse of fear in Hawke's eyes until she slipped her mask of indifference back on. Her brother was in front of her; ready to defend her with his life and so too was the dwarf, crossbow in hand.

The Templars advanced and Anders felt Justice's rage burn through his veins, he remembered Hawke's face as she looked upon the Templars in fear. That fear was just the start of the injustices every mage in Thedas had to live with thanks to the abuse of the Templars. They abused their position and preached that the mages were the ones who abused the world they all lived in. Rage bubbled and simmered until Anders could not contain it any longer. Justice pulled him further into the hatred of the cruelty the mages had to endure.

Ander's fell to the floor, the rage and hatred taking control of his entire body making him shake as Justice burned through his mind. His control started to crack and wither and it literally showed on Anders's skin as he let Justice crack through and make himself to known to these vile Templars. He could feel them trying to drain his mana; they would not escape Justice's burn.

"**YOU WILL NEVER TAKE ANOTHER MAGE AS YOU TOOK HIM!"** Justice boomed out to the Templars using Anders' lips.

Justice raised Ander's hand at the Templars and with one swipe of his hand set each and every Templar a light with blue flames. He watched them squirm and begin to scream but before they could call out for help Justice silenced them all with another flick of Ander's hand. Anders saw Hawke through the blurry vision of Justice and saw the look of shock and horror she had thrown at him.

Justice saw the look too; and in an instance he let go of the rage and once again took the back seat of Ander's mind. He seemed too shocked to say anything and became silent as if recovering from the rage that had erupted within them both.

Anders stared at Hawke intensely as if pleading, but before he could say anything to her Karl gasped in shock.

"I-Anders, what did you do? It's like you brought a piece of the fade into this world! I had already forgotten what that feels like!" Karl exclaimed.

"Yes, Anders. What did you?" Hawke growled icily her hands twitching as if readying herself for a fight. Anders didn't know how to explain well enough without running out of time before more Templars arrived. Instead he turned back to Karl.

"It's like a gateway to the fade inside you, glowing like a beacon!" Karl exclaimed again, obviously shocked that the tranquility had somehow been reversed.

"Never mind that Karl, how did they get you?" Anders asked in a rushed voice, he knew there would be more Templars coming soon. He turned to Hawke who was still staring at him in disgust, her brother's face the exact same as hers. He noticed how the warrior had taken steps in front of his sister again as if Anders was now the threat.

"**They are ignorant to our cause Anders, this mage holds little love for us," **Justice said.

"The Templars here are far more vigilant than those from Ferelden, they found our letters. And now, all of the colour and the music is gone," Karl replied, tears welling up in his eyes.

Anders blamed himself for Karl's fate, he wished there was something he could do for his old friend. He looked at Karl and at Hawke, these mages were the reason his plight was so serious and why he would exact his revenge on the Templars.

"Anders, you know what to do! We agreed years ago should one of us ever become Tranquil then the other would kill them rather than let them become puppets to the blighted Templars," Karl begged.

"I can't Karl, please don't make me!" Anders retorted, disgusted that he did not have the courage to help a friend. He knew tranquility was a fate worse than death but he just couldn't bring himself to do such a thing.

"**Would you rather he serves the Templars on hand and foot?" **Justice boomed in his mind.

"It's fading Anders; I can feel it leaving me!" Karl begged again, his eyes pleading Anders to grant him this one last favour.

He looked at Hawke; her face had become stony and indifferent again. She turned to her brother and whispered something and her brother had nodded. The group walked away from the scene and out of the Chantry; Anders didn't know whether to thank her for the privacy or slap her for leaving him to do something he couldn't bear to do.

Anders turned to his old friend and unsheathed his dagger from his belt.

"Forgive me Karl," he whispered as gave Karl a final hug and plunged the dagger into his gut.

He looked around at the burnt Templars and then Karl's body; it was in this moment he realised that there would never be a middle ground. If either side got the advantage there would be nothing but blood. But at least the mages would have good excuse to commit such crimes and rebel against the Chantry.

He left the Chantry and walked down to his clinic, doing his best to avoid guard patrols or any Templars. He opened the clinic door and realised someone was already here.

"_What_ are you?" Hawke's voice said from the shadows.

She walked out to face him, daggers already in her hands as if she was ready to strike him at any moment. Her white hair had fallen loose, framing her face and somehow making her look more feral and angry than Anders thought possible and yet at the same time Anders enjoyed seeing such passion on her face. There was thin line between love and hate.

He sighed and sat down on one of the stools that littered his clinic. He gestured that Hawke did the same, but she did not move or sheath her daggers. She looked at him intensely, as if trying to extract the truth from his very soul.

"It's a long story, you may want to sit down," Anders said, gesturing the seat once more.

She sat down, watching him with narrowed eyes as he explained. He told her about his escape from the Circle, about him joining the Wardens, about meeting Justice, and about the offer he made. He watched Hawke anxiously, waiting for her expression to change but it never did she remained cool and indifferent as always.

She stared at him for a moment as if scrutinizing every aspect of his face to see if he truly was being honest but after a few moments she regained her composure.

"And do you usually burn Templars to a crisp?" she asked coldly.

"I do when they hurt my friends like they did Karl, but no this is the first time that this has happened to this degree, I will admit." he said, looking at her red lips that had mashed into a hard line.

"Can you control Justice?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Yes," Anders replied, although he felt that it was a lie on his part, he and Justice were one and they felt the same hatred towards the injustice of mages.

"You do a lot of good in this clinic," she stated, obviously debating with herself whether to kill him or not. For the first time in ages, Anders truly felt scared.

He nodded as she continued "I will let you live Anders, but if Justice even thinks about setting his wrath on Templars again, you should warn him that I will not be so merciful," she threatened, putting her daggers back on her back.

"**She speaks the truth Anders, she will kill us," **Justice said quieter than usual, as if scared that Hawke could hear him.

She smiled at him now, as if the conversation was forgotten. "If you ever need anything Anders, you can call on me to help you, as long as it doesn't conflict with my morals," she said cheerfully.

He looked at her face as she smiled at him. She was beautiful, her white hair with the one red streak making her looking somewhat mystical. He wanted to know why she did not use her magic, but he thought it would be too inappropriate to ask her just after she had threatened his life.

"My maps are yours Hawke, as am I should you need me," he said, looking at her red lips with desire. He thought he could make her see the plight of the mages; she was one of them after all. Not only that but he had become curious, he wanted to know why she denied herself, why her hair was white as snow when her brother's hair was jet black. He was hungry for the secrets she kept hidden.

"Thank you Anders, we're all meeting at the Hanged Man tomorrow if you would like to join us," she replied a kind smile painted her delicate face.

"I shall see you there, sweetheart," he replied giving her a small bow good night.

He watched her walked out of the clinic again, looking at her wistfully.

"**This mage will get in the way with our plight," **Justice thought as Anders smiled as he got himself ready for bed.

It felt nice to be smiled at, it so rarely happened to him genuinely. No one else had listened to his story and then smiled at him. Was this woman an angel? He had heard the people of Darktown talk of the rumours of Aria Hawke but none of them could have prepared him for such a woman.

Anders fell asleep that night dreaming of him and Hawke, fighting for the freedoms of their kind.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter seven**

**A bird of prey**

**After this one I promise you Fenris will be here! **

**Big thanks to my Beta, Enchantm3nt as always for reading through and helping me become a better writer! **

Hawke walked into her uncle's hovel in the early hours of the morning, she had been up all day and sleep had eluded her as always. It was becoming a recurring thing for her these days, she thought, as she unbuckled her leather armour. On the other side of the room, her brother laid face first on his bed his mouth wide open and a substantial amount of drool coming from his mouth. She rolled her eyes.

_And he wonders why he can't get laid?_

She looked at the sun coming from the clouds and realised that it would be nearly time to wake up anyway, rendering sleeping pointless. Instead she opened her coffer box and counted the gold they had collected for the expedition. There were about seventeen sovereigns, she counted quickly. Maker, if she left the box open for too long her uncle would be able to smell the money and ransack it like he did to the girls at the Blooming Rose.

She thought about the past week's events, and the new "friends" she had made. The pirate Isabela seemed to be fun to be around, although she danced around the subject of the relic enough to make Hawke aware that there was something to the relic that was deeper than she let it on to be. She was however constantly in the mood for sex, and always trying to throw her clothes off. But she was wild and free and being with her made Hawke feel that maybe she could be wild and free too. It was nice to finally have a friend that was a girl, as much as she loved Aveline she was manlier than most of the guard put together.

The mage Anders seemed pained and haunted; she had felt sorry for him when he explained the story of how he and Justice had come to be. She thought he would be useful as they had no other mages apart from herself and she had deserted her staff years ago. Anders was an exceptional healer and a Warden, two things she needed desperately for the Deep Roads, plus he looked like he could do with a friend, he looks so sad and lonely.

She enjoyed both the pirate and the healer's company; both were easy to get along with. Carver, however, had objected to Anders right away, pleading that she just leave him and his spirit to their own problems. She knew that her brother was scared for her safety rather than his own; he had sworn to protect her since the day_ it_ happened. She winced, shaking off the memory before it surfaced again.

She walked towards the basin, cleansing her skin in cool water to keep her awake and washing the grime from yesterday's activities. She brushed her hair and tied it up into a neat bun, and started to put her armour on once again. Whilst she got dressed she heard the stirrings of her mother who always liked to be up before her children to make sure that she was able to cook them breakfast, she worried about them if they hadn't eaten properly. A good hearty breakfast was apparently a must before they left for their "work" as mother called it, even though she knew full well what they did during their days and some nights. Their mother had even met Isabela and had called the pirate a little firecracker, claiming that Isabela reminded her of her younger self, much to Hawke and Carver's horror.

Leandra had not yet met Anders, and Hawke did not want her to, just yet. The mage was normal enough at first glance but what she had experienced with him in the Chantry would haunt her forever. She had felt the burn of the fade calling her like a beacon, something she thought she had abandoned many years ago. Justice's wrath had scared the hell out of her, and yet a small part of her wished that someone like that was there to save her on that terrible night.

_No, don't you dare think of that night. _

And yet despite his flaws she found Anders' company enjoyable once she looked past Justice. He had a kind nature and she pitied him. But she did not trust men. She laughed at that thought, making Carver stir in his bed. _Well__,__ apart from Carver._

"Aria, are you up?" her mother whispered through the crack of the door.

"Yes mother, I was just about to ask you the same actually," Hawke replied, walking towards the door and opening it to reveal her mother standing there. Her mother's hair had begun to grey terribly in the year that they had lived in Kirkwall. She was hardly surprised; the stress that she had dealt with in the past year would have turned her hair grey, if it wasn't already white. The loss of Bethany had impacted Leandra terribly, and in her grief she had lashed out at Hawke. She didn't mind, if it helped heal her mother she would happily pass her daggers and let her mother stab her until she felt better.

"I'm just about to make breakfast, or are you already going out?" her mother asked, eyeing up her armour and daggers that she had already changed into.

"No, not yet Mother. I will be when Carver gets his lazy ass up though" she said, raising her voice slightly so that Carver could hear her.

"I'm coming, I'm bloody coming! I hate getting up this early! Az, why can't we have just one day when there's nothing to do? Maker, I never get to sleep!" Carver groaned, stepping out of the room to sit at the pitiful excuse of a table.

"Carver, you had two days off last week, and you just whinge when I tell you to go and enjoy yourself," Aria replied, coyly grinning at her brother.

"Well if you stopped making trips to the Chantry at night maybe I would be able to relax," Carver retorted back, and then cringed as his mother gasped in horror.

"Oh Maker, Aria you should not be going in that place! What if you're caught? They would chain you in the Gallows and we would never see you again!" her mother exclaimed, as she started to stir the pot that was on the stove.

"Do not worry yourself, Mother, I will not let that happen," Carver attempted to reassure their mother who just nodded in acknowledgement.

She looked at her mother as she continued to stir the pot, she could tell she was worried and stressed. Life had not been good for her mother lately and she mentally promised that when she came back from the expedition with a horde of treasure she would give it all to her mother and they would buy back the Amell estate. She would no longer have to live in this hovel of a place.

Leandra bowled out the porridge she had made into three bowls, placing them all down on the table and sat down. They ate in comfortable silence for a moment, before her mother broke it.

"So, Isabela tells me that you have an admirer, Aria," her mother said, smiling.

"Oh, I hadn't noticed if I do have one," she replied puzzled at this new knowledge.

"Yes, she said an apostate named Anders has expressed an interest in you," her mother continued but before she could say anything more Aria raised her hand in objection to the conversation.

"Now that is just Isabela assuming, it appears to be one of her traits. Me and Anders are work colleagues and nothing more," Aria replied disgruntled whilst her brother snorted into his porridge.

"I thought so when she told me, but I remembered that we Amell women have a thing for apostates," her mother chuckled, putting a spoonful of porridge in her mouth.

Aria did not reply to this, she didn't want to start a rant or argument about how she did not want a relationship or even think about such a thing. Mother and Carver were her priority and as soon as they restored their noble stature she would not have to hide herself as much. As soon as she had fixed their predicament, she would then try and fix herself.

She stood up as soon as she finished and hugged her mother goodbye, rolling her eyes and her mother hugged her tighter telling her to be safe.

"I'll be at the Hanged Man, Brother," she said before left the hovel they lived in and stepped out into the sunlight. She loved it when the sun dawned; it meant a brand new day had begun.

She lingered for a second and made her journey to the Hanged Man.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 **

**The Lyrium wolf**

**Fenris is finally here! Sorry it took so long :( **

**Big big thanks to my beta reader, Enchantm3nt! **

His lip curled into a sneer as he drank the swill that this tavern called ale. He was sitting in the shadows, back against the wall as he watched the door impatiently for the dwarf. He had planned the entire thing carefully, knowing that the hunters were hot on his heels, hunting him like he was game. His gauntleted fingers tapped impatiently on the table, the dwarf was late. He had one very simple job to do, he just needed to point the mercenaries they had hired in the direction of the house, once that was done he was supposed to come to the Hanged Man to inform him. _So where is he?_

He had ambushed the dwarf some days ago, having spotted the skittish man staring up at the sky in horror. Anso was his name and he had nearly leapt out of his skin as Fenris grabbed and threw him into the shadows of the alleyway. They had come to an _agreement_. Anso was to hire someone to help him get rid of the slavers on his back; in return Fenris wouldn't throw him into the sky. Not the nicest of arrangements perhaps, but a necessary one, there was nobody in the city he could trust so a well-placed threat was necessary. He was done running; it was time to face them.

Anso had met him in a dark alley a few days later telling him that the infamous smuggler, Hawke, had taken up the job. Anso had assured him that Hawke was more than capable to take on any challenge. Fenris was relieved that it was someone of this status; they would need all the skill they had to defeat the highly skilled hunter regiment.

He had heard the merchants and civilians of Lowtown praise the smuggler's skill, in fact wherever he went the name Hawke was on people's lips. According to the people of Kirkwall, Hawke had entered the city on a dragon after killing a darkspawn ogre with their bare hands. Fenris did not believe something which sounded so outlandish but he had to admit that he was already impressed by Hawke's reputation. Hawke sounded like a man to be reckoned with.

Fenris had done nothing but wait in the shadows, keeping a watchful eye as the hunters slowly closed in. All of their past efforts had been in vain, for six months they tried to capture him but he had always eluded them. Tonight, finally the hunt would end and it would be with their blood and not his.

The dwarf came in through the door, bulging eyes scanning the room. Fenris stalked over to him and pulled him into the corner, making him squeak in surprise. "Well?" he asked, making the dwarf flinch.

"Hawke has just gone down to Alienage n-now," the dwarf stuttered, looking at the great sword that Fenris had on his back and then back to Fenris' face.

Fenris nodded at him and left the tavern, he prowled through the streets, for once he was the hunter and not the hunted. Much to his satisfaction he could hear the clash of metal and screamed Tevinter curses leaving the hunter's lips, as he approached the Alienage.

He turned the corner and found a backup regiment of the hunters lying in wait, ready to charge into the Alienage. The fools all had their backs to him as he charged in, his brands flaring their usual blue. He cut through them like they were butter, all but one falling to the floor with little resistance. He recognised the lieutenant staring at him in shock, his sword dropping to the ground as he pissed himself.

Fenris bared his teeth to him. "Back to me," he ordered and the man slowly turned around. "Now walk silently forward." The man obliged, taking the steps slowly down to the Alienage. Fenris put his hand on the man's shoulder, halting his movements as he listened to the conversation taking place below.

"Lieutenant! I want everyone in the clearing, now!" someone bellowed.

Fenris smirked and plunged his sword into the back of the lieutenant and pushed him forward, the man staggered down the steps, blood gushing out of his wound. "Ca-Captain," the man gargled before flopping to the floor, dead.

Fenris stalked down the stairs, eyeing the carnage below with satisfaction. "Your men are dead, your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master," he said as he stared at the shocked and angry face of the captain.

"You're coming with me _slave_," the captain hissed venomously, whilst making a grab for Fenris' arm.

Anger bubbled to the surface and the familiar burn of lyrium sparked again.

"I am _not_ a slave," he snarled. His hand lit up and he plunged it into the man's chest and ripped out his heart. He held it for a moment in front of the captain, who stared at it, horrified, before he too joined the lieutenant on the ground. Fenris tossed the heart aside, and turned to the group of mercenaries he had hired.

A man was standing at the head of the group, a huge greatsword strapped to his back as his coal black hair fell over his frowning face. He was standing in front of someone defensively, as was the dwarf with the crossbow to his right and the guardswoman to his left, shield braced and ready for another fight. _Who are they protecting?_

The last thing he wanted was to start a fight with the people who had just helped save his life, he wasn't sure what the reason was for their hostility but he would need their help in order to deal with his former master. He suspected that Danarius had accompanied these hunters to the city and Fenris would be a fool to try to fight him alone. The magister could summon demons and shades with a flick of his wrist, or a slit as the case may be. There was strength in numbers and these mercenaries had more than proven their worth, hopefully whatever valuables Danarius had brought with him would serve as a suitable payment to them all.

He glanced at Hawke; the strong warrior was still scowling at him. Fenris straightened and relaxed his shoulders, hoping he looked less threatening. "I apologise. When I asked Anso to set up a distraction for the hunters I never thought they would be so… numerous. Your reputation exceeds you, Hawke.

The dwarf started to cough as if to hide a chuckle, the guardswoman looked at him sternly. Fenris was not stupid; he could sense there was something up.

"Varric, if you write this down in one of your stories so help me Maker I will shave your chest hair!" a woman's voice squeaked from behind the trio.

Fenris cocked his head in confusion, _what was going on_?

Fenris watched small white hands divide the dwarf and the warrior from their wall of protection. She walked forward towards him, and Fenris then understood.

_Hawke was a woman._

It unnerved Fenris slightly that she was female. Maybe it bruised his ego to hear that the brave warrior that had slain an ogre on her own, fought countless enemies without a scratch and was a beacon of hope to those who were stuck in the poverty of this hell of a city was a woman. He noticed the stern gaze the guardswoman was giving him she had obviously sensed he had not pleased her with his surprise at the gender of his saviour, though he hardly cared for her or her feelings towards him. He did not care what anyone thought of him, he lived in a pit of hatred and self-loathing and he was perfectly happy in said pit.

He looked back at Hawke again and Fenris noticed that she too had white hair, not as white as his was but almost there. He noted how the red streak in her fringe contrasted with her pale skin and green eyes. She looked almost ethereal.

"I take it that these men were looking for you then?" she asked Fenris, obviously becoming impatient whilst he was processing that the legendary Hawke was a female rogue.

"You are correct. My name is Fenris; these imperial bounty hunters were seeking to recover a magister's lost property, namely myself. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely," he remarked, eyeing the corpses of dead hunters once more.

"Well, if I killed a few slavers then I am happy to oblige anytime," she said fiercely.

"I have met few in my travels who help without seeking personal gain," Fenris murmured, bending down to the Captain's dead body.

The dwarf shifted his weight awkwardly to each side of his body until Hawke turned round and laughed "Go ahead, Varric, I can sense you're dying to," turning back to Fenris as the dwarf scurried off and began looting corpses. She looked down at him with curiosity, as he searched the Captain's affects and found a note.

It was as if they had known another way to get to him even beyond the void, he thought staring at the folded note, it was mocking him as if they had all known he could not read and hadn't bothered to keep anything hidden because Fenris was a stupid slave. He started to descend once more into his depths of hatred but he remembered that Hawke was still watching him.

He passed her the note, not wanting to disclose to a group of strangers that he could not read. She looked at him for a moment and then passed it off, unfolding the note and reading out loud.

"_Bring him back unharmed, knock him out if you must but do not kill him. Bring him to me straight away. Danarius,_ "she read, passing him back the note.

He looked up for one moment and stared into her green eyes, a lighter shade than his own. He quickly looked down in shock of a strange undercurrent emotion that had ran through him as their eyes met, ignoring it straight away. He would admire the wine, but never allow himself a taste.

He could also appreciate why Hawke was so deadly and well known, no one would ever expect such a small young woman to do the dirty jobs that were for mercenaries. He looked at her pale skin and large eyes staring at him in curiosity. No, people would expect a young woman such as herself to attend dinner parties and be married off to some noble. Fenris was hardly shocked these days and yet here he stood before a woman who was renowned by the poor in this city as deadly and yet she looked like she belonged on the waist of some rich man with a keen eye for pretty things.

_Venhedis! Stop admiring the wine fool! Snap out of it!_

"It seems my former master is here. If you would, I require your assistance in destroying him limb from limb," he said almost feral, letting the hatred of Danarius consume all of his thoughts.

"Lead the way, I…" Hawke had started to speak but the warrior had interjected before she could continue, he had let out an exasperated gasp of air.

"Sister, Mother will not be happy if we are back late again," the warrior said, his gaze narrowing on Fenris.

So the warrior before him was indeed a Hawke? It made him feel better for his foolishness before in assuming that Hawke could never be a woman.

He understood perfectly, as he studied the Hawke sibling. He knew that if he had a sister he would protect her until the very end, although if his sister was anything like the rumours about this woman-Hawke- he couldn't help but feel sorry for the poor man for even trying. She seemed like she could handle herself quite well.

"Look Junior, your sister knows what's best for her, if you're so bothered why not just go home?" the dwarf asked, returning from looting the bodies.

"Varric, I would if she stopped putting herself in the company of men such as this," he said, his hand waving slightly at Fenris as if he wasn't even there. It annoyed him that the man was so rude but Fenris bit his tongue at the insult, remind himself once again that if the tables were turned and he was protecting his own sister he would definitely keep her away from a fugitive slave such as him. But that was not the point, Fenris was becoming impatient with the debating, Danarius could be making his getaway as they argued and Fenris would rather try and face them alone and die then miss him at all because this group of strangers was having a domestic.

"We are helping this man and that is final," Hawke stated as the squabbling broke out, and just as she said it the group ceased to argue and agreed with her.

She had called him a man. No one had ever called him a man; he was used to be called elf, knife ears, slave but never man. She was the first person to ever regard him with such respect, Fenris was shocked once again.

"Thank you, we must get going before he leaves," Fenris said, his eyes meeting hers once again.

"Lead the way," she replied back her voice almost a purr, creating waves of shivers down his back.

And so he ran through Lowtown and towards the mansion that Danarius had claimed in Hightown, all the way he could feel her darting with him in the shadows. He could tell she was skilled in hiding in the shadows and most people would render her invisible but Fenris had spent six months of having to be paranoid of everything and everyone, he was hyperaware of everything around him; down to the last granule of dirt on the floor.

He stopped at the mansion door, waiting for the group to meet him. The dwarf and two warriors ran towards him with heavy breaths as if they'd been trying to catch up the entire time, but there was no sign of Hawke.

He heard the slipping of a few loose roof tiles and watched as female rogue landed at their feet, she had flipped herself from the roof of the mansion with great ease. Her expression was calculating as she turned round and looked at Fenris, and he understood why she had such a reputation.

"The mansion looks abandoned, sconces were lit a few days ago but they're burning out which would suggest no one's been here for a day or two," she whispered looking round at her companions who were nodding with acknowledgement.

"My former master is a trickster, he would have you think it of that way," Fenris said gruffly at the rogue.

"Indeed. Lead the way please," she said to him, obviously noting his discomfort.

They entered the mansion but as soon as they had come to the first hallway, they were attacked by shades. As Fenris fought he noticed that the group were well organised and fought together as a team, aiding one another. The dwarf stood back and tried to cover them with his repeating cross bow, firing shots at shades that got too close. Hawke and her brother worked as a team, he took on the front assault where she covered his back, slicing and stabbing wherever she could. The guardswoman covered them both with her shield, bashing all those who tried to break through her defence. To work as a team was foreign to Fenris, he had been on his own since his eyes had first opened.

It seemed that the deeper they went into the mansion, the more demons and shades appeared guarding his former master relentlessly. Fenris roared in impatience after they had finished off the last shade "DANARIUS! SHOW YOURSELF!"

But there was no answer; it fuelled him with hatred and anger that the coward would send demons to smite him instead of fighting him himself. They opened the entrance to the main hall, Hawke shadowing him with her daggers when they were ambushed by an army of demons. Shades and rage demons stood ready for battle, led by an arcane horror. Fenris had seen his fair share of these in Tevinter; magisters summoned them daily. They did not have any quarrel with blood magic or demons there.

He readied himself for the fight, clenching the hilt of his greatsword as he charged in to the fray of demons, the image of Danarius' heart in his hand motivating him to continue fighting.

He sensed Hawke darting in and out of him slashing at what she could, then the next thing he knew she was no longer with him and attempting to aid the dwarf who was being outnumbered by the shades that were descending upon him. Fenris scanned the battlefield and noticed the younger Hawke sibling was being backed into a corner by the arcane horror and a legion of shades all trying to claw at him and send the man to the void.

Fenris ran towards the fellow warrior to aid him but soon enough he had become overpowered too, he began to glow and slashed his sword trying to take as many down with him. He became savage, letting his need for survival take control. The shades had begun to claw at the other warrior and had pulled him to the floor whilst they clawed and scratched at every inch of him.

For a moment he thought that he was going to die, and that the shades and demons would take him and Danarius would rip his skin from his body in triumph. But before he could think anymore he heard Hawke scream at the sight of her brother being mangled. The Arcane Horror advanced on Fenris, its hand moving towards his throat whilst the shades circled him. At least he had died a free man. He closed his eyes, waiting for death.

He dropped to the floor with a bang, his eyes opening and for the third time that night Fenris had been shocked.

Each and every shade was either impaled by an oversized icicle, or frozen by the cold. In the middle of the hall he saw that Hawke had collapsed, the trail of ice ending with her.

_Faasta Vas! A mage! _

He got up from the floor and peered at Hawke. A mage that denies her magic, he thought noticing how weak it had made Hawke as the guardswoman ran towards her and helped her up. She looked exhausted from that spell she had cast. She was definitely an odd mage, the first one he had ever met who went to such extraordinary lengths to hide what she was, but a mage nonetheless. Any mage was susceptible to becoming a power hungry monster; they were untrustworthy and dirty to him. Yet, looking at Hawke he did not see her as dirty, but he did not trust her one bit. He would have rather died than owe his life to a mage!

Her brother got up next to him, covered in blood. He grabbed a potion from his belt and gulped it down quickly whilst he began running to Hawke. She staggered when he helped her up, she took a few short breaths and let go of her brother's grasp.

_She did it to save her brother, not me._

He did not care for the mage or her entourage, his hunger for vengeance fogging over what had happened. He ran towards the room at the top of the hall, his hunger for the death of Danarius shadowed the welfare of anyone to Fenris. He smashed the door open with one swift kick of his foot, making the door swing open and bang against the stone wall.

The room was abandoned; it looked like no one had been there for months. Disappointment sunk into his gut as he checked the shadows in search for his former master as if there was a small chance he would be there. But Fenris knew Danarius and knew that he would have been in the centre of the battle, he would not hide from the opportunity to cage Fenris once again.

He returned back to the mage-Hawke- and her followers; the battle had taken all of his energy to fight. And now he was bound in shackles once more because this mage had saved his life, he could run away; he wanted to. Would she stop him? Would she enslave him to herself? He needed to go, that was what he knew.

"He is gone…It does not matter any longer, I assume Danarius has left valuables behind, you are welcome to them. I need some air," Fenris said as he approached the group, the mage was sat on one of the benches near the windows; the guardswoman knelt down next to her speaking with her whilst the warrior and the dwarf were speaking to each other in whispers. As he walked past he heard the warrior whisper "we don't need another Anders…"

He walked out into the night air and took a few deep breaths processing what had just happened. His former master still walked free and Fenris had been deceived by another mage and now owed her his life. He thought about running for a moment, and then remembered what the past six months had been like running from the hunters, he had to hide in the dirt and eat scraps of food he found on the floor, this was not the freedom he escaped for. He looked back at the door for a moment; maybe it would be better to make a stand. His former master would know he was in Kirkwall; he would wait for the bastard in his own mansion. He would sneer at Danarius as he walked in; sitting on his armchair like it was a throne. He would destroy him.

If he stayed he would have to repay the mage a debt, he may not have many things but if he did not repay her then it would haunt him that a mage had saved his life. He did not like being one upped by a mage.

From the corner of his eye he saw the mansion door open and Hawke and her companions walked out towards him. She seemed to be back to normal, walking towards him at a regular pace.

He spun around as she approached, readying himself to fight. He wanted to be able to control his hatred but he could not.

"It never ends. I escaped a land of dark magic to have it hunt me at every turn. It is a plague burnt into my flesh and my soul and now I find myself in the company of yet another mage! I saw you cast that spell. I should have realised sooner what you really were," he spat at Hawke, hatred lacing his words.

She raised an eyebrow to him, but said countered his insult with nothing. Her face was a mask of indifference and calm, although he hated to admit it this worried him more than the hatred he expected to be spat back at him.

Fenris thought for a moment, looking at this woman who had not one sign of magic in her as she stood with her twin daggers on her back. It was strange to him that a mage would hide their self so much to the point where they did not even use their magic to aid them in battle.

He asked, "Tell me then. What kind of mage are you? What is it that you seek?"

She looked at him with a coy grin on her face "Find out," she replied

He stared at her in frustration, was this just a game to her? Why was she so light hearted about the situation? It angered him that she joked about such things. Mages were not to be trusted. He bit his tongue, not wanting to release a triad of swear words from his mouth. Instead he decided that he would say something diplomatic, he was too tired for another fight this evening.

"I imagine I appear ungrateful, if so I apologize. Thank you for aiding me in the mansion," he replied, his body going stiff as he fought himself not to insult her.

"I do not use such extreme lengths often, to many people I am a lovable rogue not a…"she trailed off as if she did not want to label herself as such. She was indeed an odd mage.

"I still owe you a debt, here is the gold, as Anso promised," he said, she shook the pouch of gold away as he tried to offer it to her and he put it on his belt once more. The dwarf groaned as she did so.

He cursed and complimented her at the same time for her generosity; however that still meant that he owed her some form of debt and if she would not take the gold he had been saving then he had nothing left to offer her but his sword. It made him queasy that he would offer to aid a mage, but he stifled the sickness in his stomach with the thought that he would do it for the greater good and strike her down should she show any signs of being plagued by demons. He argued with himself for a few more moments and then decided his fate.

"I thank you, should you find yourself in assistance I would gladly render it," he said, not truly believing his own mouth.

"You didn't seem all that thrilled with me a moment ago," she replied

"You are not Danarius, whether you are like him remains to be seen," he said sharply, it was indeed a fact.

"Very well, I thank you," she said bluntly.

The dwarf coughed at her and she looked at him and back, realisation colouring her face and making her green eyes go wide.

"If you would like, we plan on journeying to Sundermount tomorrow, would you join us?" she asked, looking at him with wide green eyes.

Several arguments happened all at once in his head, but he silenced them all with the conclusion that when he had repaid his debt he would leave the mage be.

"I shall," was all that he could muster, there was something about the mage that made him shiver and he did not like it one bit.

"You can meet our group at the Hanged Man, although this does relieve Aveline of her duty thought I'm sure she's fine with that," Hawke said, cheerfully winking at the guardswoman who smiled at her.

"_Captain_ Aveline, Hawke," the red haired woman corrected her.

"I know of this place, I shall see you there," he stated coldly at her, he would not begin to trust this mage. He would repay his debt and leave her alone to her… magic.

"Indeed you shall," she said, walking off having the last word.

He went back into the mansion, the ice had melted leaving a pool of water and the bodies had disappeared as if the fade had clawed them back into the void. He climbed into the bed in the main room and remembered the trail of engorged icicles and dead demons that had been in the mansion not twenty minutes ago.

Tonight had been _very_ strange indeed.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter nine- Sundermount**

**Cannot believe I've even got this far! Im not too bothered about reviews as this is more of a personal project for me to help with my writing skills. **

**Did I mention my beta reader? No? Well Enchantm3nt has been a very big help from the start! **

**Thank you for the review NecromancerLuna! :3**

**x**

He did not sleep that night, he couldn't, there was too much to think about, to worry over. Whatever satisfaction he had felt in defeating the slavers had been short lived when he realised Danarius was not in the city too. At least he still had his freedom though and now he had a mansion too. He was not used to having a roof over his head, a bed to lie on, a fire to warm himself with. It was nice and very strange. But of course he couldn't relax; not truly, there was always a worry at the back of his mind, a little voice telling him to stay alert, to keep moving. There was no way to know for sure all of the slavers had been dealt with and he had spent much of the night patrolling the perimeters and watching the courtyards below. Thoughts of the mage – Hawke – had been playing through his mind much of the night too, she was… an enigma and he quickly found himself frustrated by thoughts of her.

When dawn finally came he got himself ready for the day ahead. He wasn't sure what to make of this new group; he was so used to being alone. It would be good to have people to watch his back but at the same time it was just more people that could betray him. He didn't have to trust them to work with them though; he just needed to coin and to repay his debt to this Hawke woman. And should any of them try to betray him he had information on her, he doubted many in the city knew she was an apostate, he wouldn't have known if she hadn't saved her brother's life with her magic and inadvertently saved Fenris too. Despite not wanting to remain in Hawke's company he couldn't help but be a little curious – why didn't she use her magic? Why was her hair white?

_Venhedis! You are letting this mage make you weak!_

Remaining in the mansion thinking about a mage was _not_ how he wanted to spend his morning so he left for the Hanged Man. It didn't take long to reach Lowtown; the streets were quite quiet this early in the day. He walked in through the door, his nose crinkling slightly at the smell of stale sick that wafted through the air. He scanned the room but saw no sign of Hawke, he was about to leave when the dwarf he had met the day prior called out to him,

"Hey, uhh, Fenris, was it?" he asked and Fenris nodded in answer. "She's not here yet. Why don't you come into my room and meet the gang?"

Fenris followed the dwarf, albeit a little reluctantly, up the stairs at into the room at the top. There were several people gathered around a long table, an exhausted looking blond man who was nursing a warm beverage and a Rivaini woman who looked up at him before giving him a predatory smile.

"Oooh, this one is pretty, Varric," she cooed as she ran her eyes up him. Fenris cleared his throat a little awkwardly.

"Rivaini! Keep those metaphorical knickers on until Hawke gets here! And yes, we all know you don't wear a pair of the real ones you minx!" the dwarf joked.

"Well, Fenris. This lady to your right is Isabela. If you're up for some fun go to her but after I recommend you go to Anders here," he pointed at the blond man with the ponytail, "as he may have to get rid of a few hundred infections. He's our healer."

_Venhedis! Another mage. _

Fenris clenched his jaw and merely nodded to the man and woman he had just met. He would repay the debt and then he would leave. Hawke was obviously an idiot as well as a mage. Before Fenris could delve into his pool of hatred once again, the dwarf made him resurface.

"Elf, you look starved, have some bread," he said, pointing to the bowl of bread at the centre of the table.

Fenris did not need to be told twice, he grabbed a roll and began eating. It was delicious, soft and doughy with a crusty shell, heaven compared to the stale scraps he had been used to on the run. The healer, Anders was watching him as he ate, scrutinising him, Fenris stared him down until the mage turned away and listened to the dwarf chatting to the Rivaini woman.

He continued eating as he observed the others chatting, his perfectly sculpted self-control was the only thing stopping him from eating the entire bowl in one sitting. It had been so long since he had eaten food this good. Just as he grabbed another roll Hawke's brother and the Guard Captain entered the suite, greeting everyone with warm hellos before taking a seat.

The dwarf looked around the room, "Where is Hawke?" he asked

"She's been delayed by guardsman Perrin," her brother said, almost gleefully. The Hawke sibling's eyes immediately turned to the mage whose lips were mashed together tightly and eyes had become steely. Fenris sensed that it had given Carver great pleasure in telling the mage that Hawke had been delayed by another man.

"Oh, has she now?" Varric replied with a wicked grin on his face.

"Yes, he has expressed some interest in her," Aveline added to the gossip.

"And I wish him all the luck in the world, he'll need it with Aria," Carver chortled, accepting the beverage the dwarf had pointed out to him.

Hawke had never told him her first name, and it seemed only her family ever called her by it. The people of Lowtown spoke highly of Hawke but never of Aria. It didn't really sound menacing, Fenris thought logically. If Anso had told him that he had got the infamous Aria to aid him he would have smacked the dwarf there and then. It also confused him why her brother was not bothered that a man sought to have his way with his sister, he knew if he had one he would not let a man near unless their intent was pure. It seemed Carver Hawke was very much like his sister; odd.

"Oh and why is that, sweet cheeks? "Isabela purred as she gave him her best smile, throwing Carver off guard for a moment as if he was dazed.

"Ask her," Carver stated bluntly.

He heard Hawke's laughter above the noise of the bar, even though it was morning some patrons had come in to start the ale early.

"I'd rather not have my nose broken thank you," Varric chuckled, taking a sip of his drink.

"I find a woman with a lot of secrets sexy, "Isabela thought out loud as if daydreaming of something involving her and Hawke. Fenris swallowed a lump in his throat at the very thought.

The guard captain snorted at Isabela. "You'd find anything with a pulse sexy, whore."

"Do I detect a hint of jealousy, man hands?" Isabela countered.

As if Hawke had been summoned by her name she sauntered into the room making everyone go silent. Fenris looked over at the mage and saw that he looked at Hawke with desire and admiration. Of course he would, an apostate would respect another apostate especially since Hawke was an infamous, deadly apostate. His skin started to crawl as he imagined Anders and Hawke and their apostate children.

"My ears are burning, were you all talking about me?" Hawke asked lightly as she sat down next to the healer, to his obvious delight.

"That depends, Hawke, was it your left or right ear burning?" Varric mused.

"Right is love, left is spite, right?" Aveline asked, obviously trying to remember the old saying.

Hawke chuckled. "What if it was both?"

Varric smirked. "Well then maybe you should get Blondie here to check them, you might be coming down with something."

"Or you're talking about me spitefully but in a loving way," Hawke grumbled with a smile.

Conversations began again and Fenris reached for the last bread roll at the same time Hawke did, their hands touched and they both recoiled in shock, horrified by the intrusive and sudden contact. He had not seen anyone but other slaves react to touch in such a way, whatever surprise had registered on her face faded within a blink of an eye and she went back to her conversation. But Fenris was left wondering why she despised being touched just as he did. He had never liked being touched, never wanted to be touched. He often watched people at Danarius' dinners touching, kissing, groping and laughing as they ate and drank in confusion. Touching others or being touched was always an uncomfortable experience for him and the last mage that had touched him had done so to abuse him, but Hawke's touch had been light, gentle and fleeting and the look on her face had mirrored his own. The question was: _why,_ why did she recoil like that? What other secrets was she hiding?

He watched her curiously; she really was an enigma, one he found himself wanting to unravel. He frowned slightly, _why_ did he care about this mage? He was here for coin, nothing else. But he couldn't help but notice how easily she spoke with her companions, how carefree she _seemed_, but she still remained distant, her chair was kept well away from the healer and she never touched him as they spoke despite the healer's animated hand movements.

Hawke turned to the dwarf with a grin on her face. "So do you have our supplies?" she asked

"Hawke! You wound me! When have I ever failed you?" Varric said with mock hurt.

"Never my handsome dwarf, never," she laughed, and everyone else joined in with her laugh as if was infectious.

"Well, we'll be making our way to the Dalish camp in about an hour, Fenris has kindly volunteered his services so Aveline, you are of course free to leave and get back to your duties whenever you like to. I would like to bring Anders and Varric, if you are up to it?" she said out loud for the group but turned her gaze to the other mage and the dwarf who both nodded.

Before she could say anymore her brother interrupted her, sounding somewhat annoyed. "I'm coming too, "he said, glaring at her for a moment.

"As you say," she merely replied, as if not wanting to argue with him or maybe she knew that even if she said no, her sibling would come with or without her permission.

There was a moment of silence in the room before Isabela spoke.

"So, Ser Perrin, ey?" she smirked at Hawke, obviously curious as to what had happened whilst she was at the bar.

"What about the guardsman?" Hawke replied.

"I hear he, ahem, delayed you from coming here?"

Fenris could tell that everyone in the room wanted to know what had gone on, it was Isabela who was cocky enough to question Hawke it seemed.

"Indeed. He asked me if I would like to go out for a drink sometime," she said, almost sighing at the thought.

"Well? "Isabela persisted.

"I told him that it was a lovely offer but I'm busy," she said gruffly, her eyebrow rising at Isabela's incredulous look.

"You're not always busy, Hawke!" she said, exasperated.

"Until my mother gets her home back, and my family are safe then and only then will I look after myself," Hawke's voice was becoming stern and Isabela obviously knew when to back down because after she had said that the Rivaini woman decided that her drink was worth her attention more.

He looked at Hawke as she played with her cup, everyone else was in animated conversation once more- but she seemed to be thinking hard about something. It was not like the young woman was short on offers yet she declined them all. She was an odd mage; she did not like to use her powers and she did not like to get close to many people it seemed.

They left sometime later after much more chatting and teasing than Fenris was used to, Danarius and his guests were always quite formal, even when they were being depraved and watching some poor slave be beaten to death as they ate their desert they were always courteous and well-mannered, but these new companions of his were unlike any he had ever experienced. It was both strange and enjoyable to listen to their conversations as they made their way to the Dalish camp. Fenris stayed back with the brother, Carver and Varric, not wanting to be near the mages. He did not trust them, they were vipers, capable of striking at any moment and they wielded unbelievable power, power that in the wrong hands was capable of great evil. He had seen such things over and over again in the Imperium, to find more mages here… he felt cursed and yet a small part of him was curious about Hawke, drawn to her almost, he wanted to know more, wanted to know her secrets, wanted to understand her. He had been trained to read people; he needed to know what his master wanted before his master did and that skill had served him well when on the run; he always knew when someone was about to betray him or if someone was lying to him. But Hawke was different. He could not read her, did not understand her and that made her more dangerous than most.

"I don't like the way he looks at her," Carver grumbled in a hushed tone to Varric

"Neither do I, Junior, but she's her own woman," Varric murmured, eyeing up the back of the male mage.

"I've seen him try to touch her and it makes me sick, he follows her around with obvious intent," Carver groused with obvious resentment for the mage in his voice.

"Well, I hope I'm there when he tries, there will be some fireworks. Shame as well, Blondie was telling me a few stories about his past travels, and I thought I exaggerated shit," the dwarf chortled, causing Hawke to glance over at him with a bemused expression.

Again he found himself wondering about Hawke's past, what had happened to her? What had she said to him the night before? _Find out._ How could he possibly 'find out' when she kept so many secrets? She was physically _here_ and yet she hid just about everything about herself, she was more guarded than Fenris himself.

_._

"You okay there, Broody?" the dwarf asked, staring at Fenris.

For a moment Fenris was confused as to who this Broody was, but the dwarf stared up at him expectantly and then he remembered that the dwarf had called the others by nicknames too. He frowned down at Varric.

.

"I do not brood, "Fenris said indignantly.

"Friend, if your brooding became any more impressive then women would swoon as you passed, and they would have broody babies in your honour," the dwarf quipped.

Fenris rolled his eyes. He had never met a funny dwarf before; then again he had not met a beardless dwarf either. Varric was against stereotypes it seemed.

"I thought all dwarves had beards?" Fenris asked, actually curious as to why this one did not.

"I left it, with my sense of dwarven pride and gold plated noble caste pin," the dwarf retorted, making the younger Hawke sibling chuckle.

"I thought maybe it fell onto your chest," Fenris countered, making Carver Hawke's chuckle become a fit of laughter and once again making Hawke turn around and look at the three men quizzically.

"Oho! The broody elf tells a joke," Varric grumbled and quickened his pace towards Hawke in annoyance as Carver still had not stopped laughing. Fenris was not used to speaking to anyone in such an informal way, if truth be told he thought he would not be able to hold such a conversation. He smiled as he watched the dwarf scuttle to Hawke to tell on him as if she were his mother and smiled. _Maybe I am better at this than I thought. _

They continued walking until evening, and Fenris found himself quite amused by the strange dwarf. He enjoyed the banter that he and the dwarf shared, and it was satisfactory to watch the dwarf counter his insults and for him to fire them right back on the dwarf. Fenris felt at ease with Varric, he could even describe it as fun, he thought to himself as he started setting up his tent with great difficulty. He looked over to see that the rest of the men of the group were still struggling with their tents and cursing the cloth as they kept attempting to tie the ropes together. However it seemed that Hawke did not need any help, and she had begun on the fire which she had started to do naturally without the aid of magic, this surprised Fenris even more he thought, as he watched her go get more firewood.

The dwarf seemed to have no issue with the tent either, maybe it was because he was about as big as the tent itself or maybe it was just because he was a dwarf. Dwarves were renowned for being good at making and fixing things. Maybe he was that kind of dwarf?

"Hey Varric, do you mind helping me out?" Carver asked, throwing the string and the wooden pole on the floor defiantly.

"Sure Junior, but it's gonna cost you something," the dwarf replied, his eyebrows waggling.

"What's it going to cost?" Carver asked cautiously as if he already suspected the dwarf's intentions.

"A little information, on your sister," the dwarf replied almost sweetly.

"What's wrong with your splendid spy network?" Carver asked, obviously debating with himself.

Varric ignored Carver's question and continued "So our fearless leader, what was she like as a teenager?"

"Complete opposite to what you see now, really. She was girly, liked wearing dresses and used to plait her hair and sing in the taverns for money… and that's all you're getting! Now help me with this blighted tent," Carver snapped, looking at the tent furiously as if he was trying to tap into the long line of magic that ran in his family and use it to make the tent assemble itself.

The mage had given up doing his own tent and walked over to the dwarf and the young warrior as if speaking about Hawke summoned him to come closer.

"She sings?" he asked Carver, who was holding a wooden pole whilst the dwarf started working on the tent.

"Yes." Carver stated bluntly and continued to help the dwarf erect his tent.

Fenris looked down at his own tent and began to try and work out how to do it, he kept stealing glances at the dwarf but could not copy his technique and his pride would not allow him to ask for help.

Hawke returned to the camp with a pile of firewood and started to make the fire, she turned around and noticed that the mage's tent was not assembled and began to help him whilst he showered her with thank you's.

After she had completed the mage's tent she continued working on the fire. Fenris felt bitter about it but he had never had the luxury of sleeping in a tent before and decided that he would know no difference if he slept on the floor like he had done for the past six months.

Once the fire was strong, Hawke peered over at the group. She cocked her head over at Fenris and his unmade tent, and got up and walked towards him. Fenris expected her to come up and mock him for being insufficient at making his own tent. He thought about how Danarius had watched him move his cargo on a ship once, and when he had dropped a box his former master had laughed cruelly to his fellow magisters and turned to Fenris with a vicious gleam in his eye "my little Fenris, he's that stupid he doesn't even know how to lift boxes. You will always be nothing but a killer won't you?"

The words still rung in his mind as if had just been said and his eyes narrowed as Hawke stood before him.

"Do you need help?" she asked, a smile on her face as she nodded at the tent.

Fenris wanted to spit insults at her, he wanted to tell her that he needed no help from a mage but instead he grunted at her and nodded and then turned her back to her.

"What do you think you're doing?" Hawke asked, and even though Fenris knew it wouldn't happen his stomach turned as if he was about to receive a beating.

"I am allowing you to do my tent as you asked," Fenris almost spat at her.

"No, that's not how it works. I will help you do it this time, and show you how to do it. If I don't show you then how will you learn to do it in the future?" she said, moving her fringe from one of her green eyes.

He grunted his acceptance again and she began to do his tent, showing him what to do. After she had done the first pole she offered him the second to do himself. He had watched her do it step by step and when he finished his tent he was almost proud of himself to the point where he nearly smiled. He looked at Hawke and she smiled at him for a second and then turned back to the fire to prepare the food.

He watched her as she stirred the pot on the fire, she seemed at home by the fire humming to herself, he tried to imagine this strange mage as her brother had described before and failed. He could not picture this mage with white hair tied in a bun and a patchwork dress singing along the coast. It just did not fit this woman that he saw now, white hair tied up and green eyes looking at the pot and then out into the shadows as if looking for threats and her translucent skin as if she did not eat properly.

After food was made and eaten, they sat down and warmed themselves by the fire. Fenris sat the on far end, closer to the dwarf rather than the mage and Hawke. As the fire began to dim the dwarf grumbled and shouted over to the mage who was sat watching Hawke talk to her brother naturally and closer than she ever sat with anyone else.

"Oi, Blondie! Do some of your hocus pocus shit and make the fire warm again!" Varric shouted over to the mage who scowled at his nickname.

"Or you could get off your ass and maybe throw some wood on the fire instead of me doing my _hocus pocus shit _or ask Hawke if she'll do it," the mage said, making Hawke break out of her conversation with Carver and death glaring the mage and Varric.

"I lack hocus pocus," she snapped at the both of them before the dwarf could even ask.

"Hawke, try as you might but you are a mage! I don't understand why you would hide such power," the mage asked, almost pleading for Hawke to demonstrate some magic to him.

She started to look annoyed but not angered by the other mage's outburst, she rolled her eyes which made both her brother and the dwarf smirk and replied "My powers are gone, I have none. Can you not just accept that I am who I want to be instead of denying me such freedom?" leaving the mage to think about her words.

Hawke, it seemed was a wise woman. Her words rang true in Fenris' mind. He was born a slave but he wanted to be a free man and yet there was people like that idiotic mage that would deny him such a freedom. As he looked at Hawke for a moment and realised that even though she was a mage she did not choose to be and she denied her birth right as much as she could. Yet, the memory of her power in the mansion swam back into his mind and he became curious.

"And what of the magic you performed last night?" he asked her, his words causing the other mage to almost jump for joy at the fact she had used magic.

"I do not deny that it is a part of me, but I do not use it to my every whim, magic is something to fear as well as something to wonder. You and my brother were in peril, I would do it again without regret," she replied to him, looking at him with sombre green eyes.

She seemed exhausted as if she had not slept for days, she did not flash anyone coy grins or laugh like she had the other night when he asked her for her aid. Fenris wondered how much the ice that she had summoned had to do with it.

_I do not deny that it is a part of me but I do not use it to my every whim. _

He pondered on her words whilst the mage and Hawke argued about her heritage and her birth right for what seemed like hours, eventually the mage must have tired because when he looked up from the nearly exhausted fire he saw that there was only Hawke and himself still awake.

"You've been staring at that fire for a long time I wondered for a moment if you were trying to pool all your mental energy together to relight it," she chuckled, piling the bowls together and putting them neatly next to the pot that was now empty of any food. Fenris' stomach growled, the food was good and he could have eaten everyone's.

"I-uh, was just thinking," he said, looking at her dart about almost humming as she cleaned the campsite. Now he could see her as some farmer's wife, singing in the taverns with a lute and cleaning the house and tending to the needs of her horde of children and her husband. He almost laughed, something Fenris had not done for most of his life. She sat down on the ground next to him, leaving a gap between them also.

"Your former master is going to a great length to seek you out," she said, looking at him intensely, it felt as if she was almost trying to read his mind.

"Yes, he is," Fenris stated, he did not really want to answer her questions.

"Is it something to do with those markings?" she asked.

"Yes, from what you saw from last night you know they are not just tattoos. They are lyrium branded into my flesh, and my very soul it seems," he replied.

He remembered a dark room, with just a tiny square window allowing light in. The artisans of Tevinter sliced into his skin and seasoned him with lyrium dust which was agonisingly painful, then as the dust burnt into his flesh they poured lyrium into the wounds and it felt as if his bones had turned to ash. He remembered clumps of his own hair falling out onto the floor and when they had finally finished he lay on the concrete floor and writhed in pain for what seemed to be days.

"That's awful."

Spare me your pity," he spat at her.

"I didn't say I _pitied_ you, I said that what happened to you was awful," she countered calmly.

He observed this woman for a moment, considering her words.

"I remember nothing of my life before, the ritual that gave me these markings wiped away my memories. One of my earliest memories is of my master leering over me, stroking my markings. I have only ever known slavery; it is why I hate mages. For the good mages are _capable_ of the terrible things they can do so easily outweighs them. It is so easily for a cornered mage to turn to a demon, to blood magic, to become an abomination. I have seen magisters do deplorable things for _fun_."

"You said _can do_, not all mages are like those magisters. And don't you think I know what can happen better than most? But I know it won't," she replied haughtily like she had done with the the other mage when questioned about her magic.

"Denying your magic won't stop the demons from coming for you and you still use your magic when necessary, what if it becomes necessary to ask a demon for help?"

"Using my magic to save my brother and you is _not_ the same as asking a demon for help. I do not use my magic often, hence why I collapsed."

He let the silence between them linger before speaking again, "You are a very strange mage."

"I get that a lot."

They sat in silence for a while longer; he turned to Hawke and saw her watching the embers of the fire obviously lost in thought at the memory of something. Fenris tried to bring himself to despise this mage but he could not. He saw that she meant him no harm, no matter what argument he put in front of himself. It didn't mean he had to trust her however.

"I would go to sleep, Fenris, me and Varric are keeping watch then we will change over and you will watch with Carver," she said after what seemed like decade.

"What of the other mage? Why does he not keep watch?" Fenris asked, he almost hissed it at her.

"Anders is our healer; we need him awake and alert if something was to happen." She stood up and then lingered for a moment giving him one last stare "You should go to sleep," she said.

"Indeed, "he replied curtly bowing his head and walked towards his tent.

He lay on the bed roll for a while, trying to get to sleep. He heard Hawke starting to hum and listened to that for a moment before his eyes would not stay open a moment longer.

In what felt like minutes he heard a grunt coming from one of the tents close by, and then just before he could get up off of his back, Varric popped his head into the tent a big grin on his face. Fenris raised an eyebrow at the odd dwarf who at the moment looked like he had no body to belong to.

"Get up Broody, I need my beauty sleep!" Varric said, grinning widely.

Fenris stretched his arms, still eyeing the dwarf and remarked, "You will be sleeping for long time, dwarf, before that face is beautiful."

Varric rolled his eyes and removed his head from Fenris' tent, obviously too tired to come up with a witty retort. Fenris listened to the dwarf crawl into his own tent and a few moments later he was snoring loudly. Fenris exited his tent and shivered slightly as he adjusted to the cool night air. Hawke was lying by the dying dire, snoring quietly. He frowned slightly; she would catch a cold staying out here like that. He approached her but someone grabbed his shoulder; he turned and grabbed them.

"Don't touch my sister," Carver whispered harshly and Fenris released his grip on him.

"She is on the floor."

Carver shrugged. "At least she is sleeping though."

Fenris nodded in reply and took a seat by a tree as Carve sat on the opposite side of their camp. It was a quiet night but Carver's eyes darted around, always listening, always alert, he was so protective of her, not that it really seemed like she needed the protection.

He watched the sun rise; its yellow light bathed the camp with warmth, a stray ray of light landed on Hawke's white hair and made it shimmer in the gentle breeze. It reminded him of his first dawn as a free man, although at the time he was simply stranded, left behind by his master. He had watched the ocean's glistening waters until Danarius' ship disappeared on the horizon. This daw could not have been more different, it brought a new day, a new day with a new mage, one who was still a total puzzle to him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter ten**

**Sundermount part two**

**So, time for Merril! Apologies to Merril fans, but it's not in her point of view as she isn't my favourite character ****L**

**Thanks for the reviews/follows! **

**My beta, as always is fabulous. Enchantm3nt 3**

He pulled a part his tent, doing the reverse of what Hawke had taught him the night before. It was still quite early and the morning sun glistened off of the dewy leaves and grass blades surrounding the clearing they were camped in. Fenris glanced at the sleeping form of Hawke; she was curled up by the nearly burned out fire. He could hear her light snores and could see that she had been there long enough for her white hair to turn grey from the fire's ash. Nobody woke her up but all of the men in their group kept glancing over at her. Once done with his own tent he joined Varric to help him bring his down. "Thanks, Broody. I bet you're wondering why we're all tip-toeing around Hawke like this," Varric said as he passed him one of the tent poles.

Fenris merely nodded at the dwarf.

"It's the first time she's slept in a while," Varric explained. "She's been a pain in the ass because of it so we're all hoping she sleeps for a while, she needs it." He finished disassembling his tent and Fenris got the distinct feeling that Varric wanted to jump into some elaborate story but then Hawke began to stir before she nodded off again.

He sat down staring at Hawke whilst he tried to figure out what her true intentions were, whatever she intended, she looked somewhat innocent whilst she slept, you couldn't tell by looking at her that she was a viper, an apostate, a mage. Maybe her intentions were initially pure, but all mages would stray; it was only a matter of when. .

"Did you hear that broody?" the dwarf asked, pulling him out of his thoughts

He looked up at the dwarf who was watching him with knowing eyes, he wondered if another one of the dwarf's talents was that he could read minds.

"Sorry?" was all Fenris could muster, he was starving and tired and the dwarf was annoying.

"Me and the other boys are going to get firewood, you can sit here and brood into oblivion and also make sure Hawke doesn't ruin the fire or become an abomination, but mainly the rolling into the fire part because I've kind of got used to the luxury of breakfast," Varric said with twinkling eyes. Fenris knew the dwarf was mocking him but could not be bothered to play their little game knowing that the dwarf was eager for a reaction.

Fenris nodded and watched as the other men proceeded into the woods to gather firewood, leaving him alone with the slumbering woman. He eyed her apprehensively, as if she were a bomb instead of a woman who could wake up at any moment.

He watched as Hawke began to move more vigorously and became extremely close to the now completely dead fire. He argued with himself as she moved any nearer and decided that he would try and move her, he deliberated for a moment how he was going to do this without touching her but before he could think anymore her eyes snapped open and she looked at him with such a scared expression it made Fenris jump back in the shock of it.

"What in the Void do you think you're doing?" she demanded.

"You were tossing and turning in your sleep, the dwarf insisted that I make sure you did not roll into the fire or become an abomination,," Fenris explained, even though he had been free for a while now he still panicked at raised voices and made his excuses quickly as if he was waiting for the inevitable punishment.

She nodded and looked at her fringe with a sigh, attempting to rid her hair of the ash that had settled on it as she sat down. She gestured at the place next to her and he sat down making sure there was a decent gap between them. He observed her brush the ashes out of her with her fingers, her eyes locked in concentration.

She looked free of all her worries whilst she did it; almost happy. He wondered if Hawke had ever truly looked like that, but he imagined that her life had been nought but a struggle. The way her younger brother protected her as if she was a piece of fabric-easy to rip and soft- it made Fenris wonder what had happened to her. Not only that but she knew how to use her magic, it was not that she was untrained in sorcery, but she did not wield it so willingly like he had seen countless mages before do, it made him wonder what had happened to this woman to make her so reserved.

It reminded him a little bit of himself; he thought almost feeling sick as he noted their similarities.

_No, you are not the same, you did not choose to have this hatred burnt into your being, Hawke chose to be as she is. _

He observed the woman for another moment, her brow furrowed as she was becoming increasingly annoyed with the stubborn dirt in her hair.

_Maybe she did not have a choice?_

"I'd wash it out, but I really can't be bothered," Hawke said, tying all of her hair into a bun quickly as if due to habit.

Fenris merely nodded, it seemed all he could do. He could not think of anything to say to what she had stated. He had not attempted to make light conversation for years and was more than rusty in that area it seemed, unless it was bantering with the dwarf, Varric.

He looked at her hair, and wondered if that was her natural colour. When he was under his master's rule he would watch as Hadriana experiment with dying her hair and she had made it into all sorts of extravagant colours; it had become a growing fashion trend in Tevinter.

"Did you dye your hair that colour?" he found himself asking, his mouth betraying his mind.

"I had the red streak done at Ostagar, one of the Circle mages I became friends with there did it for me. It was either that or have matching barking mabari's with Carver," she said wrinkling her nose at the thought.

"You were at Ostagar? I have heard stories of that place and none of them are good," Fenris replied, trying to picture Hawke as a soldier. It puzzled him that she only mentioned that the red streak in her hair was dyed in and not the rest of her white hair but he did not pursue it.

"Yeah, well Carver decided he wanted to fight and I couldn't leave him alone, "she said, her eyes were concentrating back onto her fringe.

So it seemed that Hawke protected Carver just as much as he protected her. Fenris found it strange that these two siblings relied on each other. The thought of relying on someone to him was nothing more than a weakness to him.

"And who looked after your parents whilst you went to war?" he asked, curious to the answer.

"My father died before the Blight, and my mother was being protected by our sister Bethany, who died by the hands of a darkspawn ogre," Hawke said, almost coldly, it suggested to him she had to recite this line many times.

"I am sorry," Fenris felt bad for the woman, she seemed to have lost a lot.

"Why are you sorry? Did you kill them?" she replied bitterly, the ice in her voice sending shivers down Fenris' back. She observed him for a moment and then shook her head.

"I apologise, my family are a very touchy subject for me. But a change of topic if that's okay? Are you excited to see the Dalish?" she asked, an amused expression now colouring her face.

Fenris was confused, why would he be excited to see the Dalish? And then it clicked, because he was an elf she would immediately think that he would want to find a place to belong amongst the Dalish. In fact everything he had heard about the Dalish elves he had not liked, their halla's and the way they lived and their flimsy attitude to nature. He also did not like how he was told that the Dalish had _frolics_ where they all touched and pleasured each other it reminded him of the magisters in Tevinter touching each other. He shuddered at the thought.

"No, I am not excited to be amongst the Dalish. I am merely an elf aesthetically it would seem," he replied stiffly.

"Oh and there I was thinking you looked like you'd fit right in with them, I can just see you doing a dance around the fire," she laughed, giving him a coy wink.

"That would be about as likely as you dancing with a Templar, "he replied sarcastically.

"And what would you say if I've already done that?" she laughed.

"I would say once more; you are a strange mage."

Before she could reply to him, the other men from their party returned, the mage and her brother both carrying firewood whilst the dwarf held what Fenris counted to be about five sticks. They threw the wood where the fire used to be, the dwarf looked at the male mage expectantly who rolled his eyes and clicked his fingers, summoning a roaring fire. He winked at Hawke who replied with an amused grin. The dwarf began to ready the food to be cooked whilst the mage sat down next to Hawke.

"You know you don't have to click your fingers to make the fire appear, "she said, looking at him in amusement.

"Sweetheart, it's just no fun without the theatrics," the blond mage winked at her and she rewarded him with another grin.

Hawke took over tending to the food on the fire, and Varric had decided to annoy her by explaining step by step how to cook meat _properly _for a good ten minutes. He could see that this was annoying Hawke and was shocked when after no more than fifteen minutes of this dwarf's intentionally goading she began to swear rather loudly at the dwarf who looked at her with a bemused smile.

"Listen to me you short stacked nug humping saggy left tit of Andraste, you will have your blighted food cooked as it comes, what the fuck do I look like to you? Do I look like a chef or a fucking warrior?" she snapped, glaring at the dwarf after he told her that she was doing it all wrong for the fourth time.

"Oi, Junior you owe me money!" the dwarf called over to Carver who had taken to watch the swearing commence from a safe distance from his sister. Carver groaned at the dwarf who chuckled victoriously. Hawke narrowed her gaze at the dwarf for a moment as he shot her a devious grin, then shook her head in defeat, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Varric, one day you are going to wake up with a moustache and no chest hair, "she chuckled.

"How's about I buy you a mug of ale from my winnings? Won't that put me back in your good graces, my dear lady? Varric said sincerely. Fenris had a suspicion that Varric was barely ever sincere.

"Call it two and you have a deal," she laughed, taking the meat off of the fire.

"You drive a hard bargain, my friend," he chortled.

She passed them all a plate of food, all with equal shares of the meat. Fenris looked at the meal gratefully. She did not have to cook food for him, he would have happily caught his own or done what he had for the past six months and starved.

She was a good cook; he gave her that as he took a bite out of the food. It was delicious, he had never tasted meat so good or it might have been the fact he just never had such a quantity of meat before. He had been thrown the scraps of it at the feasts Danarius held for his fellow magisters but most of the time he was nit-picking at the bones, there was never much left.

For a short while they ate in silence, and then Varric and Hawke decided to banter at each other whilst they disassembled the rest of the camp. It seemed the dwarf did this with everyone.

Fenris walked with the dwarf when they had begun travelling again, he was locked in his own thoughts and not truly listening to the outside world until he heard Carver hissing, peaking his curiosity.

"I don't care for this spirit of Justice crap, he's told her, you know," Carver huffed, watching the mage speak to his sister with narrowed eyes.

"Blondie's fine enough, it's just when Justice rears its ugly head," Varric replied, taking the neutral stance it seemed.

"Sister assures me it's not a demon, but still. I think it's creepy that you're talking to two people technically," Carver moaned, looking at the mage and his sister with obvious discomfort.

Fenris had heard enough, he wanted to know what this was about; especially when it involved mages.

"What is this you speak of?" Fenris asked, Carver turning and eyeing him for a moment.

"Let's just make this the short story, the mage –Anders- has a little spirit friend called Justice and when Justice sees something bad happen to mages he comes out to play," Varric explained.

"A demon? And he is allowed to walk amongst us?" Fenris almost growled, looking at the mage with hatred rather than just a strong dislike. It made his blood boil.

"It's not a demon, Broody, like I said, it's a spirit. They met a while back and now they've joined together to bring justice to the mages," Varric said raising his arms dramatically.

Fenris snarled, the dwarf was tiptoeing round the subject when he wanted answers. He almost roared as he walked up to Hawke and the… abomination, startling them both.

"Is it true what I hear? You are an abomination?" Fenris asked the male mage, his voice becoming almost feral. The abomination looked at him as if he was no more than something he had trodden on.

"Why don't you shout? I'm sure there are people in Ferelden that didn't hear you!" he retorted.

"Do you see yourself as harmless then? Are you an abomination that would never harm anyone?" he snarled, his hatred was dragging him back and instead of the abomination's face he saw Danarius, stood there mocking him. His perfect self-control began to ebb away.

"What like ripping someone's heart out?" the mage snapped back at him, his hand tensing his staff. They were all the same; he was foolish to have thought this time would have been any different. The abomination was readying himself for a fight and so he should.

"I did that at the behest of no demon," he roared, his lyrium lighting up.

He was foolish to think there could be an exception; mages wanted nothing more than the power to do as they wished, whether gained by blood or spirits.

"Oh good, so we agree that it doesn't take a demon to be a monster," the abomination practically screamed, raising his staff.

_Faasta Vas, go on you pathetic maleficar. _

Hawke stood in between them, her eyes were narrowed, but she did not show any expression of hate towards him. He readied his sword for a fight nonetheless.

"Broody, I don't think you should even try that," Varric said from behind him, he could almost feel the crossbow aimed at him.

Hawke studied him for a moment and turned her head slightly to the mage and her brother.

"Anders, carry on walking with my brother," she said. The mage hesitated and then nodded. Carver looked as if he was about to argue with his sister but the look on her face was positively feral. The pair walked off, leaving Fenris alone with Varric and Hawke.

"Anders is not a demon, he has some strange circumstances but he will not harm any of us," she said, her daggers in her hands.

"He is possessed by a spirit; eventually he will doom us all!" Fenris argued.

"And when that day comes, Fenris, then you may happily kill him," she said, her determined face staring at him, she was ready for the fight it seemed.

"And what if I'm not planning on staying?" he asked snarling.

"Then broody, I will hire a tracker to find you and bring you back here just so you get to slaughter him," Varric laughed behind him.

Fenris debated for a few moments. He owed this woman a debt, and he would see it done with before he left. But then he found himself wondering if he actually wanted to leave, he was tired of running around the world just to start the cycle all over again and become hunted. He needed somewhere he could make his final stand, what was the point of freedom if you were constantly running? He could have allies here it seemed.

He flung his sword onto his back and lifted his arms in defeat. He would watch this disgustingly weak mage and when he had the opportunity he would rip his heart out. Hawke kept her weapons close to her as she stared at him, a violent gleam in her eyes.

"I will have your word, that you will not hurt Anders unless he gives you good reason," she said.

"You have it, Hawke, but the mage _will_ give me reason," Fenris replied.

Did she care for the abomination? Is that why she spoke to him in deep conversation and walked ahead of the others?

She turned around and walked off in the same direction that the other two men had.

When they had caught up to her and the two other men the walk became silent, occasionally Varric would try and shoot a Templar joke at the abomination who would merely shake his head. The dwarf remained silent until they were closer to the camp.

"So, Hawke, fancy a bet?" the dwarf challenged, looking up at Hawke who was about three foot taller than him.

"It depends what it is," she replied, looking at the dwarf suspiciously. Fenris could understand why she gave him such a look, he was pretty sure whatever the dwarf did; he cheated.

"How's about whoever can get the best kill on the way home wins?" the dwarf said an evil smile painting his sincere face. Fenris rolled his eyes.

"And what do we win?" she asked

"Well, if I win I want you to pick up the lute and sing me a good old song preferably ones about a handsome dwarf with manly chest hair," Varric replied his eyes twinkling.

She stopped walking and turned quickly on her heel. She looked bewildered for a moment, as if this was odd and then realisation hit her face like a wave. She turned and looked at her brother; it was obvious to her who had betrayed her.

"CARVER!" she exclaimed, and she lurched at him, making them both fall to the ground. She began a flurry of punches, but none of them hard enough to draw blood. The two siblings rolled in the mud play fighting each other and when they had both finished they were both laughing at themselves. Fenris' eyebrows raised as he looked at them incredulously, the legendary smuggler and her warrior brother rolled around like they were children? He had not heard of this in any of the stories of Hawke.

Hawke got up and held her hand out so Carver could get up too. They both had childish grins on their faces, giving the impression that this happened often with the Hawke siblings. Before they could continue a voice echoed out of the woodland.

"Hold, Shemlen, your kind are not welcome amongst the Dalish," the voice hissed from the shadows of the trees.

Fenris grabbed his sword and squinted his eyes at the woods as if trying to make out what or who was residing in there.

"Well, I'm not expecting tea and cakes I just want to see someone," Hawke replied nonchalantly.

As soon as Hawke had replied, soft thuds came from the shadows confirming whoever it was had jumped down. Three elves all equipped with bows and swords emerged from the shadows, eyeing Hawke like prey as they walked towards her.

The tallest male elf seemed to be the leader of the small group; he looked Hawke up and down as if readying himself to fight. "There is nothing here for humans," he hissed. The female to his left looked at Hawke curiously as she smiled back at them sweetly. Fenris did not trust Hawke's sweet smile he feared it was much like Varric's sincerity.

"Wait, this is the one the keeper spoke of," the elven woman said to her leader.

"A shemlen? I thought she would be an elf," the male replied, looking at Hawke almost disgusted. "Enter the camp; Keeper Marathari has been waiting for you,"

"Why thank you," Hawke replied, flashing a grin at them as she walked past.

Fenris felt no sense of his elven heritage when they walked into the camp, they seemed far too self-righteous to say that they were once at the top of everything and they'd plummeted to the bottom, they did not really have a right to be so high and mighty about themselves and yet they were. The elves around the camp looked at the group with cold eyes and Fenris felt the prickle of arrows pointed at him as he walked.

"Don't you just love their hospitality?" Hawke asked amused.

The Keeper was the oldest in the camp; her face was decorated in golden tattoos that swirled around her wrinkling face. She was looking into the fire until she turned and gazed at Hawke intensely as if she knew Hawke would be coming.

"Keeper Marathari, I was told to bring you this amulet," Hawke said politely. She passed a small amulet to the keeper who looked at it with knowing eyes, and passed it straight back to Hawke.

"Andaran atish'an travellers, indeed I am Keeper Marathari, let me look at you," she pointed to Hawke and beckoned her forward. Hawke walked closer to the elven keeper, who examined her face.

"There is a light in your heart human, but it is caged. Do not let the light go out, for you will need it," she said, her tone serious. "Tell me how this burden fell to you?"

"A dragon fell from the sky, charred some darkspawn and then asked me to bring you this amulet…No big deal," she joked.

Fenris felt his eyebrows climb to the top of his forehead. Was this true? Had a dragon really done this? Or did the rolling around the dirt do something to Hawke's head. He looked at her companions in disbelief and was stunned when her brother gave him a nod, confirming it was the truth.

"You are blessed by luck then, may Mithral watch over you. The amulet must be taken to an old burial site at the top of the mountain and given a Dalish rite for the departed then you must return the amulet to me," the keeper said, her eyes watching Hawke. "Do this and your debt will be repaid,"

"Are you going to teach me this rite?" Hawke asked, confused. It was obvious to him that there was something more to this amulet and Hawke must have been very naïve to think that it would just be a simple delivery.

"I will send my first with you; she will see to it that the ritual is done. And when it is complete, I must ask that you take her back with you," the Keeper said, her grey eyes still staring at Hawke, not even acknowledging any of the other party members.

Hawke's expression became painted confusion. "That seems a little odd," she remarked, as the keeper nodded with agreement.

"It is her wish, and I must grant it, "the Keeper said sadly. "You will find Merrill waiting for you just past the trail up the mountain, Dareth Shiral,"

"Ma Nuvenin, dareth falon,"

If he had not watched it come out of Hawke's mouth he would not have believed what she had just said. He noticed how the younger Hawke rolled his eyes at his sister; it was obviously something she showed off about.

"I think you are the first human I've heard to speak elvehn," Fenris said, trying to recall another time.

"I don't know all of it, when the Dalish came near my home in Lothering; I made friends with some of them and they taught me some of their language and I gave them cookies," she replied coolly, as if she was discussing the weather rather than she was good friends with a race that had been segregated for the past two millennia.

"You gave them cookies?" Fenris asked incredulously.

_I think I'd rather believe the dragon story._

"Yes, you know cookies… biscuits with chocolate in them? Apparently they'd never had chocolate before so it's no wonder these lot are so grumpy," she tittered, her head nodding back to the Dalish camp.

So many things were strange about Hawke, and the more he got to know her the more he realised that they would certainly be stranger. She was rather charming and accepting to everyone she met, it was a shame that her nature made no exceptions to abominations.

They travelled a little further on into the trail and found the elf the Keeper had told them about.

She stood next to a large boulder, with her eyes darting to and thro, fidgeting excessively, as if she could not stay still. She seemed to be lost in thought, as she did not look up when they approached, but moved her short beaded black hair from her face as if it were annoying her.

Hawke walked up to her, a smile on her face as she looked at the female elf.

"Oh! I didn't hear! You must be the one the Keeper told me about!" she said, looking at Hawke with huge orb like eyes. "I'm so sorry; I didn't ask your name! Unless… it's not rude to ask a human their name? I'm Merrill, which you probably already knew! I'm sorry… I'm rambling." She seemed extremely nervous and jittery. Fenris did not trust nor like _jittery._

Hawke smiled at her kindly, "You'll have to work harder than that to offend me, and my name is Hawke,"

Merrill smiled at her gratefully and replied, "Thank you, I am afraid I am not very experienced with your kind," she explained, a slight blush on her face as she looked at Hawke. "Have you been in the Free Marches long? Do you like it here?"

Hawke smiled at her again, as if this elf was some sort of cute little puppy.

"Ah, I miss the cold, and the dirt of Ferelden. Kirkwall's not brown enough for me, but hey, no darkspawn," Hawke sighed as she wrinkled nose. Fenris watched her nose, confused as to why she did it. Did the memory of Ferelden make her nose twitch as if she could smell the dirt and the cold? Or was it because she remembered the smell of the darkspawn?

The small elf woman seemed to feel more at ease with Hawke as she exclaimed "Ferelden wasn't that brown! The dirt and muck gave it character, I think! We should go… Your task if for Asha'bellanar and it is not wise to make her wait," a serious tone coloured her voice.

Fenris followed Hawke and her companions as they moved up the mountains; she was busy chatting to the elf woman when all of a sudden she let out a gasp.

"I thought I recognised you! You're Tamlen's friend! Where is he?" she said excitedly, her eyes lit with happiness.

"Hawke, do you have an elven lover you never told us about?" Varric asked, his eyebrows waggling and then when no answer came from Hawke he looked at her brother who did not answer but just winked. So, Hawke had a lover? Did this new information shock him? He did not understand why his stomach suddenly felt queasy as if someone had stuck a knife in it and stirred the contents of it round until he felt almost sea-sick.

"You… you know of Tamlen?" Merril asked her, her voice sad.

"Yes, he was a dear friend to me. He helped me learn elven in exchange for cookies," she said, her face animated. This Tamlen must have been very dear to Hawke because she seemed almost hyperactive at the thought of him. He wondered if Hawke had ever really been the boring young girl Carver described or it was merely an act for her family.

"Tamlen is no longer with us," Merril said, Hawke's smile disappeared as soon as she said it.

When they reached the top of the trail, rumblings from the ground put Fenris on edge. Just as they were about to enter the cave to get to the summit of the mountain, skeletal hands clawed their way up from the ground, snarling at them with their rusted weapons ready.

Hawke drew her daggers, and shot Fenris a vivacious grin.

The skeletons were easy work; they were merely bodies with no mind left within them. He noticed that the elven woman had taken out her staff and was chanting out elven. As Fenris slashed the last of them with his great sword he groaned out loud at the thought of being surrounded by three apostates. It was bad enough when it was one.

As they continued through the caves he felt the elven mage stare at him, he turned to face and raised his eyebrow and snarled, "What?" at her.

He had quite enough of mages for the rest of his life and when he had repaid this debt he would- he would? What would he do? He had nowhere to go, nowhere to flee to. He looked at Hawke for a moment; she was the only ally he seemed to have. This was not what he had expected from his freedom, being trapped in a cave with three mages a warrior and a dwarf. It seemed like the start of a very bad joke.

"You and Hawke have the same hair," she said, looking at him with a scared expression.

"Well done," he grunted, glaring at her with dislike.

_A mage and an idiot, those two never go well together._

"You almost match," she said, making the abomination who was walking behind her snort in disgust.

Fenris shot a glare at the mage before growling, "we do not match in anyway, mage,"

"It is a Dalish custom when you are married to match is some way, most people go for tattoos instead of hair though," she said, he could feel her beginning to ramble as he glared at her, his lyrium almost humming with annoyance. "I'll just shut up," she said and scurried back to Hawke who looked at Fenris and then back at Merril, shaking her head. She instantly cheered the elvehn girl up by speaking about her time with the Dalish in Ferelden.

As they neared the exit they were blocked in by a nest of large spiders, behind him he could hear the younger Hawke sibling moaning at the sight of them. He raised his sword at the sight of the arachnids and charged.

Hawke followed behind him and took to fighting next to him, darting in and out of the swings of the great sword as if she knew where it would strike next. It almost felt normal to have this rogue at his back, slashing the spider's legs whilst arrows rained down on them and the earth shook at the elven mage's command. The abomination was throwing spells left right and centre, aiming them near Hawke as if he was doing all in his power to make sure she wouldn't be injured.

He felt a rush as he and Hawke fought, it was odd to be able to work with someone so naturally. She rolled and flipped around him in perfect harmony.

"Whew, that was quite a show!" Varric shouted at them, whilst helping Merril up who had fallen down in fright when a spider had jumped her from behind.

"Shame your brother is terrified of spiders, although you did pretty well on your own Hawke," the abomination said, his eyes glowing with praise. He failed to mention that she worked alongside Fenris.

"Oh that has to go in a story junior, you've fought darkspawn but spiders scare the shit out of you," Varric said, nudging the younger Hawke's elbow, his face creased as though he was ready to burst out laughing any second. Carver looked disgruntled.

"Thank you, Anders, although I wouldn't have done as well if it wasn't for Fenris' aid," she said, shooting a smile at him.

They walked out of the cave to then be greeted with a magical barrier that seemed impossible to pass. Fenris tried to open it with a lyrium fuelled fist to no avail. Hawke asked the abomination to try with his magic, but not even magic could open the barrier.

The elf mage walked up to the barrier nonchalantly and took a dagger to her wrist, making blood leak down her arm. The barrier sucked up every droplet of the blood, apparently hungry for it and then vanished. Fenris' breath become short; his temper was getting the better of him once again.

Fenris tried to keep the swear words and curses and disgust inside him, but he could not hold it any longer. He looked at Hawke who was just as disgusted as he was however, obviously unaware of what the elf mage was going to do. He calmed slightly at that thought but he turned on the elven blood mage with an anger that could rip down the juggernaut golems that protected Tevinter in one swift glance.

"Faasta Vas! Blood magic! Because being stupid wasn't enough, was it? You are foolish!" he spat. Mages wanted nothing but power, whether it be by blood or any other means. They would get their hands on it and when they did they would use their hands to abuse those who did not have the power to fight back. He had seen it all before.

"Bless you broody," Varric said, obviously not fazed by what happened.

"Yes, it was blood magic, but I know what I'm doing! The spirit helped us, didn't it?" she stammered, looking towards Hawke for kind words of reassurance.

Hawke was looking at her as if she had spat on her. Her face was painted with disdain and disapproval, her brother mirrored her expression.

"Yes, demons are _very_ helpful. Right up until they take your mind and make you into a monster," she said in cold humour.

"Well… yes. But that won't happen, I know how to defend myself," the blood mage tried to argue back. She was pathetic.

Hawke did not reply to her, she just closed her eyes for a second and pinched the gap between her eyebrows. She took a deep breath and looked at the blood mage with a calm patient expression.

"We are nearly there, but be careful up ahead. The spirits are restless," Merril said half-heartedly as if her feelings had been hurt. Hawke nodded to that and continued onwards past the barrier.

As soon as they crossed the barrier they were ambushed by undead shadow assassins and the bodies that were once buried in the grounds; the once dead corpses becoming animated. They were cornered on the summit of the mountain with both exits blocked, making the fight incredibly risky in fenris' eyes.

Hawke didn't seem to care about the risks and began to dance with her daggers alongside her partner in this violent dance; her younger brother. They swiped and slashed whilst the mages aided them with their magic, Varric had his trigger ready for a shot. Fenris roared into battle and joined the fray.

He scythed amongst the enemies, becoming nothing more than the hum and flash of blue light, defending Varric who was firing his crossbow when he got the chance. He would rather do that than become a third wheel in the Hawke partnership, it seemed he was not needed.

He was fighting a shadow assassin when he heard her scream, he heaved his great sword at the assassin he was battling, decapitating its inky head from its rotting body and swivelled around, his eyes searching for the person that that scream belonged to but he already knew the answer.

_Hawke._

He searched for her on the battlefield and found her lying near the edge of the mountain a dagger impaled through the small gap in her armour, her body hanging off the edge. She was deathly pale.

He grabbed her, holding her awkwardly so their skin would not meet and ran through the fray and towards the abomination. The mage looked at Hawke's limp body with shocked and panicked eyes, and quickly grabbed her from Fenris.

Carver Hawke screamed in anger at the sight of his big sister's body and sliced the last enemy that threatened them. He ran towards the mage and knelt down with his sister, his body shaking with rage and panic.

Panic charged the atmosphere as Fenris watched Carver Hawke look at his sister's body for a second and then back at the abomination "On three," he commanded and the mage nodded in agreement.

"One"

_She's too pale, she might have lost too much blood. _

"Two"

_Maybe it's for the best; if she dies then he can just leave and carry on. _

"THREE!"

He ripped the dagger from her chest, blood spurting like a fountain and then the gaping hole in her chest was knitted together by the blue light radiating from the abomination's hands. For a moment Hawke laid on the ground as if she were sleeping, the mood had become deathly quiet even the funny dwarf had nothing to say.

She shot up like a comet, taking a deep gulp of the air as if it was the first time she had ever truly breathed. She spat on the floor and muttered several curses and looked up and shot a smile at everyone who chuckled.

"Hmm, anyone else feel like they've been hit over the head with a boulder? Just me? Oh well," she joked, getting herself up and dusting herself off as if nothing had happened. Fenris had been calling this mage strange for most of the day but he decided he had found the correct adjective for her: _insane_. She had spent the morning chatting to abominations about herbs, blood mages about chocolate and then when she got stabbed in the chest with a rusted dagger causing her to nearly die she had acted as if it was nothing. This woman was truly mental. And yet, even though her mental health was questionable this group of opposites were all together because of her.

"Fenris, you're bleeding!" Hawke exclaimed, bringing Fenris out of his thoughts.

He looked down at his arm and saw the laceration in the gap of his armour; to him it was nothing. He was used to being cut and sliced when he was cornered by hunters. This was merely a scratch to him; he had been cornered by the hunters once and they had done far worse.

He shrugged at her and wiped away some of the blood. The wound was shallow and was not life threatening to him in fact he couldn't even feel it.

Still not satisfied with his shrug, Hawke went into the pouch that was tied on her belt and passed him a red vial. He was going to argue with her that it was nothing but when he met her eyes he saw that she had a stubborn expression on her face and decided to take it and not complain. He sipped the vial and felt a sudden warmth simmer in his body and when he looked down the wound was gone, save for the blood that was now staining his armour.

"You know this dirt thing's starting to grow on me, Hawke, like a sodding lump on my balls," Varric said, kicking a corpse to empathize his words.

"Let's get this over with and I can win that bet and you will be wearing a dress for the rest of the night," Hawke muttered at the dwarf.

She turned around to the blood mage who walked towards a stone table at the very end of the mountain summit, close to where Hawke had been dangling off the edge just a few moments ago. He had not realised that this boulder classed as an altar to Dalish elves. In Tevinter the magister's alters were made of gold and encrusted with gems with small symbols of Dumat painted delicately around them.

Hawke must have felt the same way about the pathetic excuse for an altar as she looked at the blood mage in surprise and said, "Is this it?"

It seemed Hawke must have expected something a little grander than the boulder that looked like it had eroded coincidentally into the shape of an altar.

"Stone lasts longer than wood and metal would be stolen, it still works just as well, or so the Keeper says. Personally I think it would look lovely with a few flowers around it maybe some pretty vines too," the blood mage rambled at Hawke.

"I don't know, it just seems a bit too plain to pay homage to a dragon," Hawke tutted sarcastically.

The blood mage was not listening; she had put the amulet on the altar and had begun chanting quickly in elven and the amulet began to shine intensely, encouraging the mage to continue and at the end of the chant the light had become so bright Fenris shielded his eyes from the intense rays. When his eyes finally opened the light had completely gone and had been replaced by a white haired old woman who looked at them with keen yellow eyes and an amused smile on her face.

Behind him he heard gasps and grunts from the three other men of the party who were obviously as surprised as he was at the woman standing before him, the blood mage threw herself on her knees mumbling in elven.

"One of the people I see, so bright and young. Do you know anything of me beyond that title?" she asked looking down at the bowing elf.

"I know only a little," the blood mage replied, still bowing at the old woman's feet.

"Then stand, the people bend their knee too quickly," the white haired woman said and turned to Hawke almost smiling. "So refreshing to see someone who keeps their end of the bargain, I half expected my amulet to be in the pocket of a merchant!"

Hawke's expression was a mask of calmness and she smiled at the witch that had appeared from the amulet as if they exchanging pleasantries.

"No one wanted to buy it! Perhaps because it had a witch inside?" she cajoled, making the old woman that stood before her smile widely.

"Just a piece, a small piece but it was all that I needed. A bit of security should the inevitable occur and if I know my Morrigan it already has," she said in a dangerous whisper that made the hairs on fenris' arm stand up.

She observed Hawke for a moment as if Hawke was completely naked and the witch could see every part of her.

"Oh little songbird, now you've locked yourself in a cage the wolf will prowl," she whispered more to herself than the group.

Hawke looked at her confused for a moment; the words did not make any sense as the witch had intended he was sure.

"And will I be no doubt eaten by the big bad wolf?" Hawke replied with humour laced in her threatening tone.

"Maybe, maybe not; the wolf will bring you out of your cage there is no doubt about that," the old woman laughed.

Hawke stared at her for a moment her brow furrowed as she looked at the old witch.

"Fenris, what do you think of this?" she asked him which shocked him that she had asked for his opinion on the matter and not the abomination or the blood mage.

He observed the white haired witch for a moment and she smiled at him exposing her teeth as if in a threatening manner. He had seen his former master duel other magisters and trap their souls in small vials of their blood to augment his power but they could never escape their fate. This woman had walked out of the amulet freely, as if she was merely slumbering inside the amulet.

"You are no simple witch," was all he could comment, and it was true enough.

"Figured that out yourself, did you?" the old woman asked, almost laughing again.

"I have seen powerful mages, spirits and abominations but you are none of those things. What are you?" he asked, it irked him that he had left Tevinter with the idea that he had seen everything that mages were capable of doing and now he stood before another entity of magic and had no idea what she was.

She laughed at him for a moment, and then started to tap her chin almost comically as she pondered him for a moment, her amused expression never leaving her face.

"Such a curious lad, the chains are broken but are you truly free, little wolf?" she asked, causing Fenris' stomach to jolt as she had called him the pet name Danarius was so inclined to call him.

He stared at her looking into her knowing yellow eyes and wondered what else the old witch knew about him.

"You see a great deal."

Her eyes flickered around the members of the group once more until they landed back onto Hawke, her gaze was intense she stared at Hawke with a pensive stare.

"I am a fly in the ointment, I am a whisper in the shadows. I am also an old, old woman, more than that you do not need to know," she said.

Hawke raised an eyebrow at the witch's answer but did not pursue her curiosity as she asked, "You have plans I take it?"

The old witch's smile almost turned feral at the question, a sadistic gleam shone in her eye making Fenris shudder, wondering what it was that she was thinking about to make her look the way she did.

"Destiny awaits us both, my dear girl, we have much to do. But before I go, a word of advice. We stand upon the precipice of change; the world fears the inevitable plummet to the abyss. Watch for that moment songbird, and do not hesitate to take the leap for it is only when you fall that you will truly learn to fly,"

Hawke's faced was marred for a moment with confusion at the witch's monologue; the old woman was a snake with her words and did not make sense on purpose.

"Cheap advice from a dragon," Hawke sneered making the old woman laugh again.

The old woman nodded and countered, "We all have our challenges,"

"We're really going to regret bringing her here," Carver Hawke groaned to his sibling.

"Regret is something I know well, take well not to cling to it or hold it so close that it poisons your soul. When the time comes for your regrets; remember me," she said solemnly as she turned towards the blood mage "As for you, child, step carefully for no path is darker when your eyes are shut."

The elf fell to her knees in worship making Fenris' stomach turn at the sight of her willingly worshipping the witch; it was because of elves like this one that their race had been submerged into slavery.

"Ma Serannas, Asha'bellanar," the blood mage replied.

The witch's yellow eyes glanced at the elf for a second and flitted back to Hawke, still scrutinizing every inch of her face.

"Now has come for the time for me to leave, you have my thanks and my sympathies," the witch said, walking towards the mountain edge. The same light emitted from the old woman so bright they were temporarily blinded and when it faded the woman no longer stood but instead replaced by a roaring crimson dragon that had taken off into the skies.

Fenris felt his eyebrows hit the top of his forehead as he saw the dragon, which to him confirmed the authenticity of the Hawke's story. The next time he heard a ridiculous story about Hawke, he would think twice before setting it down to rumours set about by the funny dwarf.

The dragon continued flying towards the horizon, and just before it got out of sight released a blazing cone of fire before migrating into the clouds.

*** Ma nuven dareth falon- As you wish, be safe my friend (actually from the dragon age wiki ;) )**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven – Past nightmares**

**This is a rape scene, I would like to point this out to everyone beforehand so no one begins to read and become uncomfortable. It is not necessary to read, if you don't want to. Hawke does mention it in passing later, but not as explicit.**

**Thank you for the reviews!**

**A huge thanks to enchantm3nt, my delightful beta! **

She opened her eyes and saw nothing, making her heart thud in her chest. She tried to move, only to be halted by chains binding her arms tightly behind her back. She blinked a few times as her breathing became ragged and finally her sight adjusted to the dark. She was in a cell, all of her belongings were gone and she was in nothing but her smalls leaving her skin to freeze against the cold, dank stone under her. She looked around, panic overriding her senses as she tried to make sense of what was going on. She remembered walking through the fields on the edges of her family's farm hold… after that her memory was hazy.

Through the blood rushing past her ears she could hear the muffled laughter of men on the other side of the cell door. She briefly wondered what they wanted, what they had planned, who they were, before her thoughts changed to how she could get away instead. She needed to figure something out and fast. She had no way of knowing how long she had been trapped here or if anyone even knew she was missing.

The door opened and she pretended to sleep once more – that was the only advantage she had at this point, perhaps she could at least learn something about her captors. Two pairs of footsteps shuffled into the small room. She could feel their eyes on her, feel them looking at her hungrily, it made her feel sick.

"She's a pretty'un, ain't she? Such a shame," a gruff voice said, scuffing his feet.

"It is the Maker's will that we do this. We've been working on this project for a decade now. We don't have a choice," another voice replied softly.

"When will the party be returning to experiment with her?" the gruff sounding man asked the other.

"Tomorrow."

"So, I can tell the lads they can have fun with her tonight then?"

"She can't be too battered, Alan."

The other man scoffed. "We got mages she can be healed by. And come tomorrow she won't know a thing, might as well give her a good fucking tonight, whilst she still knows what one is." She felt the air shift around her and a shadow fell over her face as the man crouched down. His fingers ghosted over the skin of her breast and her eyes flew open as she lurched forward and bit down on the man's unprotected hand.

He let out a yelp and yanked his hand back; she spat blood out of her mouth and snarled up at the three men. _Templars_. The small amount of light in the room reflected off of their armour, shining off of the blazing sword of mercy on their chest plates but there was nothing merciful about these men. They eyed her bitterly, angrily, _hungrily_.

"Feisty bitch, aren't you?" Hold onto that whilst you still can, whore," the gruffly spoken one spat at her as his boot connected with her nose, breaking it with an agonising pop.

The other man bent down, looking at her body with eager eyes. He lifted a lock of her hair and smelled it, a twisted smile stretching across his face. "I think you're right," he said up to the other man. "Tell the boys we're going to give her the best kind of send-off she's ever had.

"Please serah," she begged. "Please just leave me be." He smiled even more.

"Fine, I'll go have some fun with your sister instead, shall I?" Her lip trembled and she squeezed her eyes shut, she couldn't let them hurt Bethany, she _wouldn't_. "I didn't think so," he laughed.

His hands cupped her face roughly. "Open them pretty little eyes of yours. I want to see the look on your face when I take you," the slick voice man purred.

She forced her eyes to open as she watched him yank off her breast-band; his eyes widened as the large mounds of flesh fell free and then a smile curved his face once more. His hands snaked down to grasp one of her breasts, his hands were cold and she shivered at the unwelcome contact. He took one of her nipples between his finger and thumb and twisted it roughly, making her bite down on her lip to stop from crying out. Her body was tight as a bowstring as he continued to twist and squeeze her nipple, the other hand kneading her other breast with calloused fingers that scratched across her skin.

His hand scratched across her skin as it travelled lower, slipping into her smalls to separate her wet folds. She had not yet given her virtue to any man, she had wanted to wait until her wedding night, she had wanted to wait for a man that she _loved._ His fingers stroked along her slit, making her squirm, repulsed at those cold fingers invading such an intimate place. Two fingers slipped into her core and she shuddered, gagging as the urge to vomit overwhelmed her. He stared down at her, smiling as his eyes darkened; she turned her head away, panting heavily as panic gripped her chest. His fingers moved in and out of her as his thumb circled the little bundle of nerves at the top of her wet folds. She could feel her stomach tightening as the pressure at her centre built. She tried to close her legs, tried to get away from his touch, but that only made him increase his strokes. She wanted it to be over, she wanted to die, but this was only the beginning of what they had planned for her.

Out of the corner of her eyes she saw him unbuckle his armour, letting his cod piece fall to the stone ground with a loud clatter. He stepped toward her with a menacing glare, presenting her with his hard manhood.

"Open your mouth," he commanded. She shut it tight in defiance; she would not give him the satisfaction. He growled. "Open your fucking mouth, apostate whore or your little sister will open_ her_ mouth for me instead."

He pinched her nose, knowing she would have to open her mouth to breathe and when she did he stuffed his cock into her mouth. He groaned and grabbed her head, pulling to and thro, forcing the cock to hit her throat before it slid back out again only to thrust straight back in. She gagged and began to panic before she closed her eyes and forced herself not to panic, wishing it would end.

The demons came then, whispering in her mind, pleading with her, promising her power. The Templar grabbed her roughly, his cock slipping from her mouth as he flipped her over so her ass was in the air. _Let us help_, they whispered, _let us end this, together_. She squeezed her eyes shut, ignoring them. She would _not_ become an abomination, she was stronger than that.

"You should thank me for the extra time you got with your father," the Templar whispered harshly. "For it was I who made sure the toxin would kill him slowly. I wanted you to see him, to be there with him as he slowly died for it was because of you that he died," he snarled into her ear as he sniffed her hair again.

He licked his way down her spine, and then his hands groped her ass roughly before smacking her behind; her body jolted but she kept her mouth shut. She would not give the Templar the satisfaction of her cries either, she would remain silent.

She bit down on her lip hard enough to draw blood when the Templar shoved his erection into her violently, breaking her maidenhead. He began to thrust into her at a harsh pace, making her want to scream in pain.

He groaned with satisfaction. "You're such a tight little whore, but your silence displeases me," he growled. One of his hands snaked around to rub along her slit again as the other gripped her hip tightly. He began to circle nerves there roughly, sending waves of dizzying pleasure through her. Her body was accepting the brutal torment while her mind reeled and screamed. She felt so _unclean_, like she was nothing more than the shit on the ground; no bath would ever make her feel clean again.

She moaned as he thrust harder; her mouth betraying her.

"Yes," he hissed. "I knew you'd fucking love it, you apostate bitch," he jeered, upping the tempo of his thrusts.

The demons continued to scream at her as the Templar thrust madly into her. She tried not to moan as it only purred him on, but her body had taken over, her core quivering around his thick cock, almost drawing him in deeper with each stroke. Her body was tensing, tightening, coiling, and a fire began to burn at her core, radiating out to ignite her body. The pain was still unbearable but it was mixing now with twisted, unwanted pleasure as he plunged into her, over and over.

The pressure became too much, unbearable, moans and cries spilled from her mouth, driving the Templar into a frenzy. And then the pressure exploded out of her core, rippling through her. She through her head back and cried out, her entire body shaking violently. The Templar held her up, still thrusting into her as he grunted and groaned, still stroking her sensitive nub.

With one final thrust he stilled, grunted loudly and she felt his hot seed fill her, making her quiver and moan again. He collapsed down onto her, breathing hard as he recovered from his release. She prayed to the Maker that would be it; that it would be over now. He had got what he wanted. He shifted and got off of her, pulling out roughly, making her whimper. And then he cleaned himself off, wiping the smeared blood on his cock away with a cloth. She lay face down on the ground, dried blood crusting around her nose and wetness dribbling down her thighs.

She felt sick. She wanted to die. She could still feel him on her body, inside of her, in her mouth. Her stomach clenched and she vomited onto the ground, gagging and choking from her mostly empty stomach.

He grabbed her hair, lifting her head so he could whisper in her ear. "If you fail us, then I will get the pleasure of fucking your mother and sister too. I wonder if they're as tight as you? Maybe I'll fuck them at the same time?" He laughed and kicked her in the side before turning and walking out of the door. "Right lads! Who's next with our little whore?"

She curled up into a ball and closed her eyes, wish for the darkness to take her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter twelve- Carver**

**Thank you for your reviews, it's lovely to hear from you guys. :3**

**And as always, thank you to my beta enchantm3nt for being such a great help to me with this story!**

Carver watched his sister brushing out her hair in the mirror; she was back to her usual self despite the nightmare that had woken her in the night. She had been panting and sweating, her eyes broken and haunted but that had quickly passed. She wouldn't tell him what the nightmare was; he knew it was about whatever had happened to her all of those years ago though but he never pressed her for answers, unwilling to start an argument over such a sensitive subject.

He missed the way she had been before whatever had happened. She had been so young and free and she had their parents wrapped around her finger. They loved her, worshipped her, he had been so jealous.

His father's words still echoed in his mind to this day.

_Protect your sisters, Carver, no matter what. _

But he had failed. He had failed that one simple command, that last, dying wish, that promise. He had not been there to protect his sister that night. She had been missing an entire week before she finally came home in the middle of the night. She had tapped on his window and he had rushed outside to her; she had been completely naked, covered in blood and mud, and her once charcoal hair was drained of all of its colour. The memory of her looking like that… it still haunted him, still ate away at him, still made his heart ache.

"You could wear your hair down for once, you know," he said to her, looking at her through their cracked bedroom mirror.

"I'll be enjoying the odour of the Hanged Man in my hair for weeks!" she exclaimed.

"Just once sister, enjoy yourself, for me?" he replied, making his sister mutter some insult that did not reach his ears.

He rolled his eyes and then granted her a devious grin. "Imagine Mother's face if she was told you were dating a guard," he cajoled, a threatening smile on his lips.

"Imagine mother's face if she found out you were trying to stick your man parts in every whore in the brothel," she countered, making Carver wince at her choice of words.

"Go for it, saying and doing is different sister," he said, bluffing.

She turned and grinned at him wickedly, "Why the change of heart? Is it because of Merrill? I saw you staring, don't deny it!" she laughed, making Carver blush with embarrassment.

He did not want to admit it to his sister, but he had found the little elf woman they had met the other day to be somewhat beautiful, in an endearing sort of way. She was not alluring or sexy like their Rivaini companion, Isabela, but had a delicate, innocent beauty that Carver thought was rare in women around these parts.

His silence only spurred his sister on as she retorted, "You have an elf fetish!"

He frowned at his sister's words; she was always interested in his love life but never even thought about her own. She was young yet she acted so old and reserved, he knew that whatever had happened that terrible night had changed her, and he admired her for carrying on every day; her bravado was one to be commended.

But she was weary of other men getting close to her. He knew that she used mother and himself as an excuse for these actions but what would she do when they had carved their path and sat on a mountain of gold? Surely she must have realised that mother would want her to become a noble as she was once? Mother would want her to find a good rich husband and would be expecting her to give her grandchildren, the same applied to him of course, but he had no problem with such things. It would be a well-earned break from the hell that he had to endure these last two years.

He had seen her a few days ago when she and the elf had accidently touched, she had jumped away as if he was a hot iron branding into her skin and he was a mirror image. They had a lot in common it seemed, more so than that possessed bastard mage that was constantly trying to get in her good graces. He did not like the way that Anders stared at her; it was almost possessive.

He would rather her sleep with Varric than Anders, that was true, but he just wanted his sister to live a little. Yes, she experienced fun in the slashing of daggers and blood but she he had never seen her once truly enjoy herself in an environment that did not consist of bandits, demons or whatever thug crossed her path.

"So are you going to honour your bet with Varric?" he asked his sister, throwing her a wink as she shot him an annoyed look.

"Yes, I will. But if that is the first thing the damned dwarf asks me to do as soon as I step inside tonight, I promise you I'm going to write my name in his chest hair with my daggers," she joked, although Carver didn't doubt that she would do so.

She started readying her amour for her to put on for the evening, making him frown. She practically lived in armor, she was worse than Aveline.

_Can't she just for one evening enjoy herself?_

"Sister, we're just going for a drink why don't you wear something more comfortable?" Carver asked, watching her expression become incredulous.

"Carver, we almost always get attacked near The Hanged Man, plus I have nothing nice to wear," she replied, he knew she would make excuses straight away but having spoken to Mother this morning he was certain the excuse would become void any moment now.

As if his own thoughts had summoned her, their mother walked into the room with a smile on her face and in her arms she held the package that had been the main topic of discussion for them this morning.

"I found that in the old crate you brought when you recovered the will from the old estate," Mother said, her eyes twinkling with pride as she handed it to Aria.

Aria unravelled the package with uncertainty in her eyes to find it was a gown.

His grin was so wide it almost touched his ears as he looked at the gown. It was simple, a crimson red with a small black bow in the centre of the chest, it was plain enough to wear to go out in without causing a stir. It also had red slippers to match; he chuckled smugly, watching her face as she tried to get of the situation but couldn't think of a proper excuse to give to Mother without her dying of shock at the fact that they were being attacked sometimes on the way to or from the local tavern.

He almost laughed as he watched his sister squirm for a moment; she was well and truly backed into a corner with not an excuse left to fight with. She could do no more than accept it and she knew it too.

"Thank you, Mother," she said, placing a kiss on mother's cheek.

"Well come on, I'll help you put it on Aria and goodness let's do something about this hair," their mother said almost gleefully.

"Mother, I don't really want to-" Aria started but her mother silenced her immediately.

"I always did this with Bethany, I miss it," her mother pleaded quietly.

That made his older sister's mouth clamp shut. All mother had to ever do was mention his twin sister and Aria would suddenly go quiet. He knew that she blamed herself for her death, and she should have realised that it was his fault. He had failed father twice it seemed, but he would never fail him again. He missed Bethany so; it had felt like a part of him had died with her that day that the ogre had taken her from them. Sometimes he had nightmares of the ogre throwing her around as if she was nothing but a ragdoll.

Together he and Bethany had been whole, two people thinking as one. It was one of the many joys of being a twin Mother had told him.

He pushed all thoughts of Bethany out of his head and watched as his mother fiddled with his older sister's hair, braiding it loosely. He smiled as he exited the room, knowing that even though Aria was furious with what mother was doing she would not dare disappoint her.

He sat at the table for a few moments, watching the mabari move in his slumber.

He wondered if Merril had settled well in the Alienage, and decided he would go see her.

"C'mon boy, let's see how Merrill's doing in her new home."

The hound shot up enthusiastically and followed Carver outside.

_Tonight would be a good night._


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter thirteen- A song and a game**

**The song belongs to Florence and the machine! One of my favourite dragon age songs. 3**

**A massive thanks to my Beta, enchantm3nt you should check out her story she's an amazing writer!**

**I fully recommend her amazing fic The Sacrifices we make ! Check it out! You will not be disapointed!**

**x**

Fenris nursed a flagon of ale that Varric had handed to him as he sat in the Hanged Man, pondering the events of the past few days and how they had come to be. If he had been told six months ago that he would become a member of a _merry band of misfits_, as Hawke had so aptly put it, he might well have laughed for the very first time in his life at the ridiculousness of that statement. He did not work well in groups, he was so used to being alone, on the run, and yet here he was, settled and working with a group of people consisting of several _mages_. None of them had anything in common, expect for Hawke. She was the reason they were together, the _only_ reason.

She was a mystery, and a surprise. Even the members of the group that had supposedly known her quite a while knew little about her, it seemed. She was an enigma; the more time he spent with her the less he realised he knew. That should make him uncomfortable, he shouldn't trust her, or like her, and yet he couldn't bring himself to hate her. There was something… familiar in her eyes, something he recognised because he had seen those very eyes looking back at him in a mirror.

The witch had said that Hawke had caged herself, but he knew that Hawke would have to have a valid reason for doing such a thing. He had his suspicions: the way she pulled back as if burned when their hands touched, the distance she always kept between herself and others… He had been shocked to realise her touch had not hurt him like Danarius or Hadriana's always did. Hers was fleeting, light, _soft._

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Isabela. "So Varric, is tonight the night you bank your winnings with Hawke?" Isabela asked the dwarf with a hopeful expression.

"Of course Rivaini, I hope she's prepared me a ballad to rock the ages," Varric replied, a grin of satisfaction on his face at the memory of winning the bet.

"And what if she refuses?" the abomination questioned with a grin.

"She can't, I've bought her a present and it cost me a pretty penny! Bianca's had to lose out on her polish this week!" Varric replied, lifting a lute from under the table.

Fenris leaned in and observed the lute; it was indeed a finely crafted instrument. He had to admit he was curious as to what Hawke would be like singing. The others had shared stories of Hawke and her younger brother dancing in battle, but never of her other interests. It seemed that Hawke was more of a business woman and never mingled the two together. Although, from what he had gathered from Varric she enjoyed a drink; Varric had told him the story of Hawke and Isabela and the twenty five shots.

"I could polish her for you," Isabela purred at the dwarf, who raised his hand up to her.

"Stop right there, Bianca is a one man kind of girl," the dwarf stated, making Isabela slump in her chair with a disappointed expression on her face.

"You know Varric; I've never seen Hawke properly sloshed! How many shots do you think it would take?" Isabela asked, competition lacing her voice.

"Well Rivaini, I'd bet it would be about forty since the ale here is so diluted," the dwarf laughed.

"Not if you know where Corff puts the good stuff, and I do," she said smugly, her eyes glinting.

"Is that right? A wager then Rivaini?" the dwarf laughed as Isabela agreed.

Fenris watched as she got up and sauntered past him, deliberately putting her large bosom in his face as she walked towards the bar. Isabela was an attractive woman, but he had taken Varric's warning with good heed. Plus he did not feel entirely comfortable with the perverse pirate and her hungry eyes.

The guard-captain joined them half an hour later, greeting the group as she sat down and drank quietly, occasionally flinging an insult at either Varric or Isabela. Fenris watched the captain's eyes moving towards the door, most likely waiting for Hawke. Varric too, kept looking at the door, waiting for Hawke almost excitedly.

An hour later into the evening and one Hawke had finally come to the tavern, but not the Hawke that Varric desperately wanted to see. You could almost see the excitement and expectation fading as he watched Carver Hawke and the blood mage walk into the tavern.

"Junior, where's your sister?" Varric asked disappointed at the sight of him.

Fenris noticed the amused smile Carver flashed before answering the dwarf.

"She's been with Mother whilst I've been helping Merril fix some holes in her roof," Carver explained to Varric who grinned profusely at the younger Hawke.

"Oh, did you now, I could have helped too," Isabela purred as she walked back to her table and plonked herself back in her seat next to Varric, looking at Carver and the blood mage provocatively.

"Daisy, this is Isabela and the red with the thing for metal is Aveline and the guy with the feathers is Anders, the rest of the gang you've met it seems" Varric introduced the blood mage to their other companions; Fenris greeted her with a scowl making her turn her gaze quickly. The blood mage looked at the dwarf with a serious expression on her face.

"My name's not Daisy, Varric, its Merril," she said to Varric, confused.

"It's just his funny dwarf ways, he likes giving things nicknames," Anders explained to her, shooting Varric a glare.

Varric shot the mage an innocent smile making the mage's eyes narrow at the dwarf who chuckled before taking a long pull of his ale.

"Hawke's definitely coming, isn't she?" Varric said, eyeing up Carver dubiously.

"Of course she is, she's just indulging Mother, she misses doing whatever it is women do together," Carver said, a note of sadness in his voice. Fenris remembered what Hawke said about her younger sister being killed by darkspawn.

The group began with small talk again, Fenris choosing to not to join in with the groups banter instead deciding to watch the door for Hawke. It was odd that she wasn't there yet; he had gotten the impression that Hawke was a punctual sort of person and she was apparently -according to the dwarf who seemed to enjoy exaggerating- late by one hour.

He watched the group in their idle chatter and noticed they were not as animated as they were when Hawke was around them. Isabela and Varric seemed to be the only ones not affected by absence of Hawke; the two sat together concocting bets and swapping stories with hearty chuckles.

Varric stopped talking to Isabela and turned to stare at the door for a moment. He blinked twice as if trying to adjust his eyes and after a moment of sincere shock his face cracked into a wicked grin. He nudged Isabela who also looked towards the door and smiled furiously. Fenris turned his head round as he heard the steps of someone coming closer towards their table and wolf whistles from the patrons rang in the noise of the crowd.

Hawke walked towards them with a quick stride, her face flushed with embarrassment and her hair down ending near her breasts. Fenris' eyebrow raised as he noticed that the group's fearless leader was wearing a dress made of crimson material decorated with nothing but a small black bow with shoes to match. The dress clung to her as tightly, beginning to cause a stir with the men of the crowd.

_Not only the strangers in the crowd. _

He looked at abomination who stared at Hawke in wanton lust and need, his eyes perversely taking in every bit of her as she walked towards them with such elegance that if he did not know Hawke he would have thought that she was some noble's offspring. She had an air of grace in which was strange for a Lowtown smuggler. He hadn't really noticed how womanly Hawke truly was, every time he had met this woman she had always worn armour. He looked over her figure for a final time, viewing her curves with surprised eyes.

The abomination seemed mesmerised by her as she walked towards them, his face painted with obvious desire and lust. He stood up when she got to the table, bowing lowly to her and kissing her hand, making Fenris wanting to snort into his ale at the sheer desperation that radiated from the abomination.

"You look beautiful," the abomination said to her, pulling a chair out for her to sit down.

Fenris silently agreed with the abomination but chose not to shower Hawke with compliments like the abomination and other men seemed to do. He sought nothing from her unlike the abomination; he did not lust for her like some lovesick boy with a crush. He laughed at their weaknesses, for it was their undoing. However, even if she had not knocked him head over heels like she had with the pathetic mage, she had created doubt within his usual adamant thoughts and beliefs.

Hawke pursed her lips and looked at the male mage for a moment with a small blush painting her face. "Thank you, I was with Mother today she misses having a daughter to do such things like this with," she said, gesturing at the dress and her hair with a disgruntled expression.

"Ah, Hawke I'm glad you got dressed for this occasion," Varric said, grinning at her with obvious intent.

"Oh, why, is it my Name Day already?" she asked feigning innocence. Fenris knew she remembered losing the bet to Varric on the way back to Kirkwall from the Dalish camp.

Fenris looked at Hawke grin at the dwarf, and couldn't help but ponder on the old witch's words.

_Oh little songbird, you've locked yourself in a cage and now the wolf will prowl._

The old witch had seemed to look at Hawke with respect and pity when she spoke to her, and Fenris found himself wondering in what way had Hawke had caged herself. He wondered if she had ever opened the gates that held her back and become whoever she was underneath. He snorted at himself at loud for such a thought, he was becoming a hypocrite it seemed, for who was he to judge Hawke, when he too was chained.

Hawke cocked her head in bemusement at him and threw him a quizzical look that he answered her with a shake of his head to deny her an explanation.

"No Hawke, but I've bought you a present," Varric said, presenting her with the wooden instrument.

"Varric, my dear dwarf I cannot sing without a bit of courage," she said, a coy grin playing on her lips.

Isabela took the hint well, gesturing the bartender Corff over with a seductive smile. The bartender looked at the Rivaini pirate with a smirk and produced a tray full of shots, which he put in front of Hawke.

"Oh all of these are for me? I wanted to play a good drinking game," Hawke said, viewing the group who had all begun to look at her sceptically.

"There were no terms about a drinking game before or after you fulfilled your bargain Hawke, and there will be no game until you have sung us a song," Varric said, feigning a serious demeanour for a moment before flashing a wicked grin.

Hawke rolled her eyes and downed one of the shots in front of her, her nose crinkled and her face scrunched up at the sour taste.

"Maker's Breath, what in Thedas is that?" Hawke asked Varric incredulously.

Varric shrugged his shoulders and gave Isabela a questioning look, Isabela repaid him in kind with a huge grin. Fenris suspected that the pirate had indeed gotten into the bartender's _strong stuff. _

Nevertheless, Hawke grabbed a few more of the shots and drank them down quickly as if they were water.

"That is a very pretty dress, Hawke," Merril complimented quietly, with a slight blush to her face.

"Thank you, Merril, it was my mother's dress when she was younger; she's just been trying to teach me how to sew and repair dresses," Hawke said, once again wrinkling her nose at the thought of it.

"Oh, I can see that now, you sat a spinning wheel repairing your armour," Aveline said, a small chuckle escaping her lips.

"Why in Thedas did she think that you would need to learn? You can just use magic!" Merril exclaimed, making Isabela jump up in shock, she stood there for a moment in glee as if almost about to break into dance.

"I FUCKING KNEW IT!" she shouted, pointing at Hawke with obvious joy.

Hawke raised an eyebrow at the pirate whilst she sat down looking around the group expecting them to be just as shocked about the new information that the blood mage had announced rather loudly. She then pouted and groaned "I was the only fucker who didn't know, wasn't I?" she sank back in the chair with a disheartened expression emitting from her face. She had obviously thought she was the only of them onto Hawke's secret, when it was the complete different end of the spectrum.

"Rivaini, we all assumed you knew but didn't give a shit," Varric said, clapping her on the back as she looked truly disappointed.

"I don't, but now I know which one of them should be magic in the bedroom, if you get my drift," she said, winking at Hawke with a face full of jest. She shook off her disappointment in a moment, her face shifting back quickly. The pirate and Hawke seemed to both be able to hide their emotions just as quick as the other.

"Well, back to the question before Isabela's outburst. Mother wants to be wed to a man of stature, and these skills make me more appealing," Hawke groaned, much to Fenris' amusement.

The abomination stared at Hawke as if her words were echoing through his body; he looked tormented almost as if he were arguing with someone silently. Fenris noticed his disdain and took great pleasure in the abomination's realisation that a darkspawn had more stature than an apostate Grey Warden hiding in a shoddy clinic in Darktown.

"Oh I see now, will we be invited to the wedding? Carver said your mother was a lovely woman; she wouldn't make you marry another shemlen without your say, would she?" Merril started to babble, but Hawke stopped her in her tracks by replying to her first question with haste as if knowing the blood mage would continue to ramble until someone either intervened or hit her with something heavy.

"I am mostly just indulging her, for now, but I fear that when we get our old home back she may revert back to her ways before she met father," Hawke said, a flash of worry streaking her face.

Varric seemed to sense that the conversation was going downhill, for he changed the subject quickly and with a light heart.

"But until that day you'll always be our lady rogue Hawke! Now, this song, if you please," he said, gesturing towards the lute that he bought especially for the occasion.

Hawke bit her lip and looked at her brother with a nervousness he hadn't seen before. Fenris found it amusing that a woman that was renowned on the battlefield was nervous of singing in front of a drunken crowd where hardly anyone would be listening. Carver gave her a strict nod and she leant over the table and grabbed the lute, making Isabela smile widely at the sight of her exposed breasts whilst she leant forward. Fenris rolled his eyes at the pirate, Aveline was right about her; the woman would have anything with a pulse.

She put the lute in her lap and stroked the strings delicately, a small smile playing on her lips. She stared down at it for a moment and everyone seemed to watch in silence.

"If I do this, we're all playing a drinking game after, right?" she asked the group.

"Hey you've got to do it either way but I'm game for a drinking game or two," Varric said, giving her a wink.

"What shall I sing?" she asked the group, but it was more directed at Carver.

Carver looked at her for a moment in thought, and then replied "You know my favourite,"

She nodded and stroked the lute once again; it let out a throaty twang as if agreeing with Carver.

She looked around the group who had become transfixed with her and the instrument waiting for her to begin her melody; Fenris found that he could not look away as she broke into song.

"_I'm not calling you a liar, just don't lie to me,_

_I'm not calling you a thief, just don't steal from me, _

_I'm not calling you a ghost, but stop haunting me, _

_I love you so much, I'm going to let you… kill me,"_

Her voice was beautiful; the entire tavern had gone silent just to listen in to her song. The lute strummed away at the command of her fingers and she looked at home with the instrument. She did not look at anyone as she sang but her voice was confident and loud. Her voice reminded him of the warm summer amongst the fog warriors and how they sang around the fires. It felt somehow reassuring to him, in ways he did not understand.

"_There's a ghost in my lungs and it sighs in my sleep,_

_Wraps itself around my tongue as it softly speaks, _

_Then it walks, then it walks with my legs, _

_To fall, to fall, to fall… at your feet. _

_There before the grace of him I go by, _

_And when you kiss me I am happy enough… _

_To die,"_

He did not understand the emotions that the song was creating inside of him. He looked around the group and saw that even Varric and Isabela were staring at Hawke with a serious expression on their faces. It was as if the song was bringing out their every emotion; he could feel his doubt and curiosity and fear being drawn towards the song and his perfected self-control almost broke.

"_And when you kiss me, I am happy enough_

_To die,"_

The lute hummed its last note as the song ended, she looked around at everyone with flushed pink cheeks as if she was embarrassed or worried she did not play efficiently. It was true what the old witch had said about Hawke, she was indeed a songbird in her own right. He had always stereotyped mages to be the same as each other, but Hawke seemed to be unique.

The patrons and drunkards in the bar applauded loudly, wolf whistling at the blushing mage who looked at the people around the table sheepishly.

"That was beautiful, Hawke," Aveline said, smiling at her reassuringly.

"Thank you, that's the first time I've sung since…" Hawke stopped talking for a moment, her expression turning dark.

"Since forever, Sister!" Carver interjected, saving her from the wondering looks of Isabela and Varric.

She looked up at her brother and smiled widely and then turned to Varric "Well, you got what you wanted! Would you like a ballad about a handsome dwarf or shall I give you the lute back? Perhaps you could name her Lucy and she could be a friend for Bianca?" Hawke cajoled, her coy playful grin back on her face.

"Oh no Hawke, Bianca would be jealous. I got Lucy for you anyways," Varric said, grinning at her. "As much as I would love to hear another song, I don't own any handkerchiefs and don't want to cry all over Bianca,"

"Yes it was lovely, can we soddin' drink now!?" Isabela shouted, making the crowds of men cheer at her words, raising their tankards at the busty pirate.

"Yes, yes we can. I think we should play a game of I never!" Hawke agreed, smiling round at the group. Fenris' eyes narrowed at the very idea of playing some silly drinking game; he did not feel comfortable in doing so. She looked at him for a moment, her expression unfathomable and then added, "not everyone has to play if they don't feel comfortable."

Fenris found he was grateful for her amendment, for if she thought for a second he would down shots and be merry with a room that consisted of mages then she was indeed mad. If he lost control of himself he very much doubted that the blood mage or the abomination would be left with any innards by the end of the night.

Yet, he found that it would be somewhat amusing to watch the group drink, he had no other plans for the night and if he was not in the tavern he would be in his condemned mansion dreaming up fantasies that involved decorating the mansion's foyer with Danarius' intestines. He welcomed the distraction; he had spent six months in a pit of hatred and loathing.

The group moved their drinking to Varric's private suite and Isabela and the barmaid Norah had brought in two more trays of the shots to accompany Hawke's tray.

The blood mage sat next to Hawke, her cheeks blushing a furious pink as she explained she did not know how to play the drinking game. Hawke smiled at her with kind eyes and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, the first time Fenris had seen her touch anyone but her brother.

"It's very simple actually, Merril, someone announces something that they have never done and if you have done it you must down one of these shots," Hawke said, smiling encouragingly at the nervous elf.

The blood mage nodded in understanding returning Hawke's smile with one of her own.

"We never played such games, Hawke," Merril explained herself, as if she was making excuses.

"I know, Tamlen told me the exact same, he'd never even seen a deck of cards! Elves most definitely have it bad, no chocolate, no fun games! Such a sin," Hawke said dramatically, making the blood mage's mouth pop into the shape of an O.

"Oh but we have some games! And we have rice cake treats! Honestly, I don't think chocolate can be _that_ amazing!" she said, her voice serious as if she did not detect Hawke's sarcasm.

"My dear Merril, I think we should introduce you to chocolate very soon," Hawke laughed, causing her younger brother to watch her with bemusement.

"I'll bring some over tomorrow for you if you like, my Mother always bakes with the spare coin at the end of the month," Carver said, looking at the elven mage sweetly.

Fenris almost snorted at Carver Hawke for his obviousness, you could tell just by the way that he looked at the blood mage that he adored her. He should be smarter than other people having lived amongst mages all of his life that blood magic was something to distance oneself from, he was obviously as naïve as his older sister.

"I'll come with you this time, Carver; I think I've had enough of Mother showing me different ways to style my hair and how to sew for a few weeks," the elder Hawke looked at her sibling, a grin on her face confirming that she suspected the same as Fenris.

"Well she can't have taught you much, you've just taken it out of the bun for once," Aveline chuckled, taking the other seat next to Hawke.

"Look who's talking, man-hands! Pot kettle black!" Isabela jibbed as she spread her long legs on the table, flaunting every inch of her tanned skin, a smile on her bronze lips.

"Shut it, Slattern before I make you shut it," Aveline cursed, the amusement leaving her face in an instance to glare at Isabela in annoyance.

"She taught me to plait it actually, but I think that's just asking for some Lowtown thug to cut it off and wave it around me like a trophy, she's insistent I dye it soon as it's not very becoming," Hawke replied to Aveline, her nose once again wrinkling.

Fenris looked at Hawke's hair; he could see why Hawke's Mother didn't think it was becoming of a young woman like Hawke. Then again, if Hawke's Mother knew what Hawke and her sibling truly got up to on a day to day basis, then she would probably agree that it suited her incredibly. Her hair was almost white with the one red streak, it looked somewhat unique as he had not seen anyone else apart from himself in Kirkwall with such outlandish hair, and yet the crimson streak gave the impression that she constantly had blood in her hair.

"I think your hair is beautiful, sweetheart," the abomination chimed in, throwing her a wink much to Carver's displeasure.

Hawke's cheeks stained pink at the mage's comment and she smiled at him widely. It seemed that even Hawke was not immune to flattery. Fenris frowned at the fact, he would have thought that she would reject the abomination's advances towards her, but it was as if she welcomed them.

He felt eyes watching him and turned to see the Rivaini pirate staring at with a sultry smile playing on her lips.

"I enjoy a man with markings like those," she purred, leaning in an almost peacock style manner, displaying her large breasts.

Fenris swallowed the lump in his throat at the sight of her bosom and replied, "You've enjoyed many a man, I suspect,"

"Where I come from they are called tattoos; Sailors get them all the time," she replied, deflecting the insult with great ease.

"Not made of Lyrium, I suspect," he replied, staring into her brown eyes with a stern look on his face.

"Not a one, and most of the time they are usually breasts," she chuckled, a predatory smile on her face as she viewed him.

"I suppose a pair of lyrium breasts tattooed onto my chest would make things better," he said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at the wild pirate.

"That's me, I'm a helper!" She laughed again.

Fenris felt as if the pirate was viewing him as prey for her next kill, it made him feel uncomfortable as the pirate looked at every inch of his body, but he permitted it.

"Holy Mother of Green cheeses, are we playing this sodding game or just flirting with one another? Is Daisy going to be educating us on Dalish frolics so soon?" Varric announced to the group, snapping the members out of their conversations. Fenris' eyes tore from the pirate to view Hawke almost bright red at whatever Anders had just whispered to her.

He did not like the mage whispering whatever pathetic flattery he spilled in her ear; it made something stir in his bones. What it was he did not know and a large part of him did not want to discover what it was.

"Okay, okay calm down Varric, Maker! I'll go first shall I? I've never kissed a woman," Hawke said, looking around the group as if watching. The men of the group groaned but surprise hit Varric's and Carver's faces when they noticed that Merril downed a shot with them, they weren't shocked at all about Isabela, and Fenris suspected that the pirate would hump a nug if her primal urges were that bad.

"Well, well Daisy! I did not know you batted for the other team!" Varric said, viewing the blood mage with a sudden interest as if he could smell the story oozing from her.

"Varric, I'm terrible at sports!" the blood mage said, a brow furrowed in confusion at the dwarf's comment.

"No he means he didn't know you were a lesbian," Carver Hawke almost sobbed, trying to keep himself calm about the topic, as if waiting for her denial to swing like a pendulum.

"Oh no, I'm just not inclined to either and most of you shem look the same… it's no offense!" the blood mage said and then spluttered at her accidental insult.

The group laughed at the blood mage who laughed back in her nervousness. The foolish elf did not realise that they were laughing at her and not with her.

"Right well, I've never had sex, as everyone in this group damn well knows," Carver blushed furiously, much to the delight of the pirate.

Most of the group downed their drinks, and none of them seemed to notice that Hawke didn't either; it seemed she moved one of the empty shots as a decoy. Was it so embarrassing to her that she not laid with another man? Hawke looked down at the table, the same dark expression marring her features that had before and Fenris suspected something plagued the mage's mind just as he did.

The questions seemed to become more ridiculous, after the blood mage's announcement that she had never been with a human that was it for anything serious. There were questions such as I've never had sex with a lord or noble, I've never worn a breast band, I've never self-pleasured, I've never rode a mabari into battle whilst wearing a powdered wig whilst reciting the Chant of Light. Each of them seemed to be trying to best the other and Fenris watched as the drunkenness of the group began to climax until all logic had left them, rendering them senseless, and laughing at almost nothing. Fenris grinned for the first time at the sight of this group of misfits, they were comrades in arms but they gave him a sense of family and protection just as the fog warriors once had. His thoughts became sour almost at once at their similarities. He remembered the Fog Warriors' kindness and how he repaid them. He would not do it again to these people.

Maybe it was the alcohol in his blood, but he got up and decided he should leave_. Forever._ The liquor and ale combined were making him feel emotions, a cloud of them and the only ones he could understand were regret and pain. He left the suite without any of them noticing in their drunken debauchery; they probably thought he was going to relieve himself or bring more drinks.

He weaved through the crowd and walked into the night air, inhaling a deep breath in.

Where would he go? What would he do? He thought he could stay but he would not submit these people to the same end that the Fog Warriors had. Doubt clouded his mind.

As he exhaled he felt the tavern door open and eyes stare right at his back.

"Is there something wrong, Fenris?" Hawke voice chimed into his ears.

"No, there is nothing wrong," he said, turning on her with narrowed eyes.

"You do not have to stay you know, your debt is repaid," she said, as if she could read his inner most thoughts.

"I know this," he stated, being somewhat at loss for words as she stared intensely at him. Her hair like his seemed to shine in the moonlight, and for a second he agreed with the blood mage that they almost matched.

"So, tell me what do you once you've stopped running," Fenris mused, actually asking Hawke for advice.

"I don't know, but do tell me when you figure it out," she replied solemnly, staring up at the moon with wide green eyes.

"I fail to see what you are running from, Hawke," he said sceptically raising an eyebrow at her as she stared at the full moon almost lovingly.

"I will not bother you with my own cage, this is not about me, Fenris," she said, a slight breeze moving her hair.

"Danarius is a powerful magister and I have seen him do horrific things to innocent people, this is my burden to bare not anyone else's and when the time comes I will fight for my freedom," Fenris snarled, the very thought of his former master making him become more beast than man.

"You have seen that we are all well-equipped and will stand by you when that time comes," Hawke stated, still looking at the moon.

"You would help someone you know so little of so freely? How can we trust one another?" Fenris asked, dubious as to why this woman he had not known more than a week would throw herself at the mercy of the imperium to help him.

"Because a very long time ago I was burned by twisted people and I know what it is like to be chained," she said, releasing a silent sigh. Her breath stunk of alcohol and Fenris wondered how intoxicated Hawke was to tell him such information. He very much doubted she had said anything like to any of the others; Hawke was a reserved woman when it came to her own problems.

"I can see a good side to you, Fenris, just as I can see a good side to every other one of my companions but I will not force you to stay, the choice is yours," she added, looking away from the moon and straight into his eyes once again. His eyes were a stark contrast from hers, his sullen dark eyes boring into her bright green for a moment. Maybe it was the alcohol but Fenris felt a tingling sensation rush down his spine.

"I can see myself staying, for the right reasons," he said, looking her up and down appreciatively. He mentally winced at his behaviour that the alcohol had brought on him; he was acting no better towards her than the leech of an abomination! "I should thank you once again for your help against the hunters, had I know Anso would find me a woman so capable I might have asked him to look sooner," he said, a true smile lifting from the corners of his lips. _His first ever smile and it was at a mage. _The alcohol had broken down his perfect defences, it seemed,;his smile faltered as he tried to build the walls back up.

He waited for a reaction out of her, he expected her to purse her lips as she had done when the abomination did something like this or maybe shoot him a smile to reward him for his compliment. He felt idiotic, embarrassed and all of a sudden sober.

"Maybe I should be the one thanking Anso," she said in an unfathomable tone, a coy grin playing on her face.

A fire scorched in the pit of his stomach, he stared into her eyes for a moment longer. He did not question the anomalous feeling that had begun to coarse from his stomach into his chest, but he found when he tried to ignore it, the more it burnt and tried to writhe its way to Hawke as if she was its beacon. He could not bear it any longer, his cowardice making him drop her blazing stare, looking at the floor in defiance to the fire that felt like it was burning into his very soul.

The fire died down as quickly as it had sprung up but before he could regain confidence to look back into the iridescent eyes that belonged to this puzzling woman she had already left him in the middle of the alley, the cool breeze helping him regain his composure.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter fourteen- A wayward son and a Hawke's rescue**

**Huge thanks to everyone who's read my story, I feel it's really helping me improve my writing. I am so sorry for the lack of updates, I've moved home recently and have been sorting a lot of stuff out. Forgive me! **

**I adore my beta, enchantm3nt for putting up with me and making this story amazing. **

**As always, hope you enjoy. **

_Her body was broken; she could feel every bruise, cut and burn that stained her skin. They took her in turns, thrusting themselves on her and having their way with her time and time again. It didn't bother her as much as it had on the first day. Their leader had been waylaid, it seemed, for one of them had said before he broke her that they would be here by morning. It had been three days and they did not let her sleep; all of them wanted to satisfy their frustrations on their apostate sex toy. They didn't say much to her, and the words she did catch were groans as they came in her. How these, _Templars,_ could treat her in such a way when they were sworn to protect her kind, to watch over them and protect them from themselves and others, was beyond her. Perhaps this was the will of the Maker, perhaps magic _was _a curse and perhaps this was all she was good for: a good fucking. Surely, if the Maker was just he would stop these bastards, stop the men that had killed her father agonisingly slowly, stop the torment, the torture, the endless rape she had so far endured. _

_If there was a Maker, he was a twisted son of a bitch, for nothing was worse than this. _

Hawke shot up from her bed, dissolving the same nightmare that always plagued her. She rubbed her forehead, trying to banish the headache that was already coming on and groaned. _Maker why did she drink so much?_ She mentally cursed the pirate and the shots she had supplied the group last night, noting that they were not Corff's usual diluted ale. She put her head back down on her mouldy pillow and tried to go back to sleep again, but after minutes she realised that the nightmare had defeated all chances of that happening.

"I know you're awake, Aria," Carver grumbled from his pillow.

"Well you don't have to be, go back to sleep," she whispered sternly, eyeing up her brother's silhouette in the darkness.

"Mmmpht,"

She rolled her eyes at Carver's sleepy groan and decided a walk would clear her severely hung over head; she tiptoed out of their bedroom not wanting to wake anyone else up, beckoning the mabari as she departed from the hovel.

She wondered what she could do at this time as she walked round the city with her mabari, Spike, who seemed to be happy just to get out of the claustrophobic hovel she was forced to call home. He wandered round sniffing aimlessly as enjoying the new smells.

Anders would be asleep or working at his clinic, Aveline would also be sleeping or working. Varric and Isabela would cut off her tits if she even tried to wake them up before dawn. And Fenris… she stopped mid-thought remembering her drunken flirting outside the tavern the night before and winced as if the memory had given her pain.

Spike looked at her with his head cocked to one side as if questioning her expression.

"I did something stupid, okay?" Hawke explained at the dog who huffed at her as if to say _when aren't you?_

Hawke rolled her eyes at the overbearingly intelligent hound and continued her walk. She was terribly drunk yesterday; she had the hangover to confirm it. But she may have overstepped the line when it had come to Fenris. Sure, she had always returned compliments with smiles to not offend the person that gave her them but she did not see anything with anyone going further than those compliments. She did not think she had the strength for that; her heart had become so cold since her had father died.

And yet, all it seemed to take was a lot of alcohol to overlook all of her defences and she became almost like Isabela. She stopped again and cringed, making Spike bark at her for stopping. The bark sliced into her like a knife. She could not face Fenris so quickly after last night, perhaps he thought she was just as bad as the pirate who blatantly said to the elf yesterday that she found him delicious and wanted a piece of him.

She wanted to cringe and stop again, but feared that the mabari would bark a war cry so loud that she would shatter into a thousand pieces.

She neared the grand tree that the city elves called Vhenadahl towards Merrill's house, knocking on the door as quietly as she could. The alienage houses were smaller than Gamlen's hovel and were more ramshackled together with not even the space for windows and just enough for a tiny wooden door.

Merrill was half-asleep when she greeted her, but invited her in enthusiastically, ushering her to the table and offering her a drink.

"Couldn't you sleep, Hawke?" Merrill asked, concern colouring her question.

"No, but you'll soon understand I never really can," Hawke replied, watching Merrill look for another cup for Hawke to drink from. It seemed the poor elf only had one, and Hawke felt a pang of pity for the Dalish woman; Hawke had always thought she had it bad, until she came to what Merrill called a home. She could see where Carver had started mending the roof, but as she viewed the other holes that were dotted on the ceiling she doubted that what the house needed was repairing, more like it needed rebuilding.

"Its fine, Merril. I'll grab a drink later, or we can share a cup I don't mind, honestly," Hawke reassured the elf who had become almost frantic looking for another cup for Hawke.

"I'm sure I bought two cups yesterday! I was so sure!" she said, panicking, looking around the dingy room as though the cup could have wandered away on its own.

Merrill sighed as she sat down opposite Hawke, a yawn escaping her mouth, confirming her tiredness. "I can leave if you like, Merrill, you can go back to bed," Hawke offered, stroking Spike as she watched the elf let out another yawn.

"Oh no Hawke, please stay! You never told me how you really got to know Tamlen!" she exclaimed, flashing an endearing smile.

Her smile was infectious, for Hawke found that she smiled back.

"It was many years ago. You passed Lothering and spent a few weeks near the town; I was out walking with Spike and Tamlen was watching me," Hawke said, a grin colouring her face as she remembered Tamlen.

"You must have gone quite far away from the city for you and Tamlen to cross paths," Merrill said, taking a sip of her cup of water and offering it to Hawke who shook her head at the elf's unorthodox kindness; she had been joking about sharing a cup but she soon realised Merrill hadn't taken it that way.

"I often wandered away from the town, it felt nice to walk away from the scrutiny of the Templars from time to time," Hawke answered, smiling at the fond memories of walking in the woods and embracing the serenity of the woodland. "But I knew he was following me, so I led him to the clearing in the woods where the river runs."

"And? Did you confront him?" Merrill asked, entranced in the story.

"More like _he_ confronted _me_, he realised that in the clearing there was nowhere else to hide so he walked out of the shadows. We stood there in silence for a moment before he told me that it was very late and it wasn't safe for a girl such as me to be out at such an hour. I thanked him for stating the obvious and that I would be fine as I knew the woods. He then stared at me and told me my hair was nice," Hawke told Merrill, a euphoric smile on her lips as she reminisced. She could almost smell the wet grass and summer flowers that filled that clearing.

"Your hair is very pretty, Hawke," Merril agreed, giving her a kind smile.

"Believe it or not, Merrill, my hair wasn't always like this," Hawke explained, repaying her with a grin, "I had the same colour hair as Carver, back then,"

"Your hair is pretty Hawke, I don't see many shem with the same colour as you, just old ones,"

"Another story for another time maybe," Hawke replied bluntily, not wanting to discuss anything to do withthe origins of her hair. She wrinkled her nose in discomfort, hoping the elf woman would deter from her curiousity.

"And then after he complimented you two became friends?" Merrill asked, going back to the previous conversation they were having.

"No, I saw he had a wound on his arm and healed him, he bowed and thanked me and we sat next to the river and talked for some time."

"and after that?"

"I saw him every evening at the same spot for two weeks, on the last night he came to me and told me they were leaving; I almost asked to go with him. I was just a young girl then, I thought I knew everything even though my father tried to point it out to me otherwise. He was a dear friend to me, but I knew I could not leave,"

"He disappeared many years ago, me and a friend and Tamlen journeyed into the forest on the rumour of a ruin that was creating some sort of taint amongst our clan. We found an Eluvian -a relic of the old ways- and I watched him disappear right into it. It's why I left my clan, Hawke; I can just feel that I can bring him back from the mirror. He can't be dead, but not only that, if I can make it work I could restore the history of our people," Merrill monolgued, pleading with Hawke as if she wanted her understanding or her blessing.

Hawke would give her understanding, for she knew if she could bring Bethany back she would siege the Black City and ascend the stairs to face the Maker with her blades ready without a second thought. But she couldn't give Merrill her blessing, Merrill had already proven just how far she was willing to go to help her people… talking with demons, blood magic, it made Hawke uncomfortable and she wasn't go to encourage that.

"Merrill, Tamlen is dead. You know this to be true, he was so stubborn; he would have made his way back to your people by now if he was still alive. I want us to be friends, I have great respect for the Dalish, but I am not comfortable with your use of blood magic and I do not like you talking to that demon." Merrill tried to open her mouth, probably to tell her it was a spirit but Hawke shot her a look and kept talking, "I don't want you to be driven mad by this or worse to become an abomination. If that happens, Merrill, I will have no choice but to cut you down, do you understand?" she said as softly as she could.

"I… understand," Merril concluded with a nod.

"Well, c'mon then," Hawke said, standing up.

"Why? Where are we going?" Merril asked, confused.

"If me and my dear brother are helping you fix your roof, then maybe we should go get two cups so we can all have a drink," Hawke said, flashing a wide smile at the elf who returned it gratefully.

The market area of the Alienage was bustling with people as the traders set up their stalls and prepared for the long day ahead. Hawke's eyes caught sight of a glint of silver and she instinctively grabbed Merrill and ducked behind a stand. Hawke peered around to look at the Templar speaking with a pleading elven woman.

Hawke hid her magic well, but she took appropriate precautions around Templars out of habit and by now she was comfortable enough to be around them with her pretences but Merrill stuck out like a sore thumb and she would not allow anyone, Templar or not, to take someone she called a friend.

"I am sorry for your loss mistress, but I can only offer your son mercy unless he turns himself in," the bearded Templar said, his voice was stern but gentle.

The ginger elven woman pleaded to him, "I am trying to find him but-"

The Templar interrupted her, waving his hand to stop her. "The Templars cannot tolerate apostates."

The elven woman nodded tearfully, and the Templar turned swiftly and walked out of the Alienage. When the Templar left, she began to cry loudly, though no one came to comfort her.

The sight of the crying woman tugged at Hawke's heartstrings. She couldn't help but picture her mother in such a state should Hawke be taken to the Gallows. She'd probably end up regretting it but she stepped forward and cleared her throat. The elf looked up at her, slightly startled, her eyes teary.

"It sounds like your son is in trouble, is there anything I can do?" Hawke asked, watching the woman wipe away her tears.

"You…you heard all of that and you still want to help? An apostate? Oh thank you…" the woman replied, still wiping away her tears but looking at Hawke gratefully, "I am Arianni, my boy, Feynriel… he is all I have. I learned he had magic and I could not bear to send him to the Circle," she sobbed again, wiping her tears with her hands.

Hawke rooted around in her pocket and found a small handkerchief that was slightly dirty and offered it to the woman who took it thankfully.

"But his connection to the Fade, it gives him nightmares. He dreams of demons speaking in his mind. I would rather lose him to the Circle than to himself," the woman said, wiping her heavily tattooed face clean of tears once more.

"What exactly do you wish me to do, Serah?" Hawke asked the woman politely, not wanting to press her for too much information lest she start crying again. Hawke hated it when people cried, not because it was awkward, but because she had not cried for nearly seven years now and just couldn't feel as compassionate towards people who cried so freely because they wore their hearts on their sleeves for all to see. In her eyes that was one of the greatest weaknesses there was.

The woman widened her eyes at Hawke calling her Serah, but replied, "Just find him, please I don't know where Feynriel has gone, but there are two places that you may start your search. Ser Thrask has been looking for him, if you go to Gallows he may be able to tell you the ground he has searched. And Feynriel's father, Vincento, recently returned from Antiva; he is trading in the Lowtown Bazaar. Feynriel may have sought his father out," she pleaded with Hawke, her eyes beginning to water again.

"I will not leave you fearful for a moment longer than necessary," Hawke confirmed, looking at the woman, empathetic to her plight.

"Magic is a gift, your son deserves a chance to harness his power," Merrill finally interrupted, looking at Hawke almost admirably. Hawke found Merrill endearing and sweet to say the least; it was no wonder to her that her brother liked her despite her choice of magic.

"Thank you, it has been a long time hiding, it is a relief to finally confront this," Arianni sighed, her tears ceasing at Hawke's promise of rescuing her son.

Hawke merely nodded her head and walked away from the woman with Merrill in tow. She would need to speak to the Templar, and that would mean going to the Gallows, which meant she'd need some sort of back up or distraction.

"Merrill, go to the Hanged Man and wake Varric. Spike, go home and get Carver," she commanded, her pace quickening, she already knew where she was going.

"And what will you be doing, Hawke?" Merrill asked, confused, as she stood next to the mabari who held the same expression as the Dalish elf.

"I am going to get Fenris," she stated, walking up the stairs to Hightown.

She kept to the shadows on her way to Fenris' mansion, hoping she wouldn't run into any trouble along the way. Her methods proved effective and she was soon at his mansion. She crept in through the dusty entranceway, her breathing the only sound she could hear. She wondered if Fenris was here at all; perhaps her drunken flirting had scared him off? She walked up the stairs and headed to the master bedroom, hoping to find him within.

The bedroom was dark, and she could not hear nor sense anyone in the room. She tried to readjust her eyes to the darkness but before she could a blade whirled her way towards her throat, inches from slicing her skin.

"State your business," he growled, the lyrium glowing slightly. In the light of the lyrium he saw that it was her, and lowered his weapon slowly, glaring at her.

"Hawke, I do not like being woken up unceremoniously, have you ever tried knocking?" he said, his voice heavy with sleep but still sarcastic nonetheless.

"Why is it that everyone seems to be persistent with training me into this whole knocking business," she huffed dramatically, raising her arms.

"Maybe they are merely trying to teach you manners so one day somebody will not slit your throat in panic," he replied, rubbing his head as he sat down on one of the armchairs that were by the fire.

"Ah, hung-over are we, Fenris?" she asked humorously, eyeing the elf as he continued to rub his head as if to massage his obvious state away.

"I have had worse," he stated, glaring at her once more.

"I thought you might have left," she replied, trying to make her tone indifferent to the fact when truth be told she was glad he was still here.

"It seems I was persuaded otherwise," he said, his lips turning up only slightly, but Hawke got the impression it was a half-grin.

"Indeed, anyways I was wondering if I may borrow your sword today," she asked, trying to be polite at the elf's bluntness. She knew Fenris was not the way he was by choice, and she knew that feeling more than most.

"You can borrow it if you wish, Hawke, however I doubt you could lift it," he replied, ceasing to rub his temples he looked up at her with a dark humour on his face.

She almost laughed at Fenris' jest, but her hangover had not fully left. Instead she grinned at him and replied, "Fine, I would like to borrow you for the day if you do not mind; I have a job and you'll get a fair split of the coin."

The elf looked at her with an unfathomable expression on his face; he was extremely hard to read which irked Hawke. She was good at reading most people, yet Fenris' face was almost always a mask.

"If this job entails your pirate friend and me sating her every desire or fantasy that she seems to have with me, then it is not worth all the coin in the world."

She laughed at that, remembering Isabela's advances on Fenris the night before. "Well, Isabela is going to be disappointed it seems she has taken a liking to you,"

"It seems she was not the only one last night," he replied, a grin truly on his face as he reached for his mug of water on the floor.

She wrinkled her nose, it was a habit she could not get rid of since childhood, whenever something happened that she did not like or felt comfortable with her nose would take over her face and wrinkle with discomfort.

"Indeed, alcohol makes some people rather loose lipped," she said, trying to stop the conversation from steering towards her drunken flirting last night. She hoped he wouldn't tell anyone about it; Varric would have a field day.

He nodded, making her almost breathe out a sigh of relief.

"If you need me, I will come, Hawke," he said, his eyes locking into hers for a moment. His gaze made her feel as if she was burning, but not in an uncomfortable manner.

"Thank you, as I said you will get a fair share of the coin," she said.

"What does the job entail?" he asked, looking at her dubiously for a moment. She must have sounded strange repeating herself and not explaining the job to him.

"A mage has run away in fear of his own power, his mother has asked us to commandeer him and get him to go to the Circle where he can harness his power," she explained, watching his features as he raised one black eyebrow at her.

"You would put your own kind in the Circle?" he asked, shock being the main factor in his voice.

"If I thought them a threat to the city… if I thought that the Circle could help them control their magic, then yes. But as of right now I don't know enough about the situation to decide such a thing," she replied around the lump in her throat as he watched her with eyes full of scrutiny.

"All mages are a danger," he hissed at her, the lyrium had finally had dulled down so there was nothing but the dark. It made her feel somewhat more comfortable at being alone with the elf who hated mages; at least the shadows were on her side.

"Everyone is a danger, but the path you choose is what dictates whether you're a danger, do you think I'm dangerous because of what I am, Fenris?" she asked, although she already thought she knew her answer.

"No, but that could change at any time," he replied, his voice serious.

"And could that not be said the same of_ you_?" she replied, her wit lacing her voice as she empathized the word _you._

They stood in silence for a moment, she wondered if he would even dignify her with a response to her argument.

"Yes, it could," was all he could reply, it seemed.

She wasn't sure why she cared enough to argue about any of this, she usually didn't give a crap what others thought; her heart was too icy for that. "Then don't judge so harshly, you may think I am naïve but I am not," she said and he nodded at her.

"What are your leads on this apostate," he said, and his use of the word apostate stung her in a way. She did not let him see that it bothered her, she wore her mask so well it had become who she really was these days, unless alcohol was involved, it seemed.

"We are heading to the Gallows to speak to the Templar who has been searching for the boy, and then the boy's father who he hasn't ever met, these are the best leads we have for now," she replied, her voice taking a neutral ground.

"You go to the Gallows so freely? What if they apprehend you?" he asked her as he got up and moved the dusty curtains, letting light into the bedroom. She screwed up her eyes for a moment, trying to make her sight readjust to the light.

She looked at the elf that stood before her, a scowl on his lips as he questioned her. She would never say it out loud, but Isabela was right, the elf was indeed attractive, maybe not as much as Isabela exaggerated like she had last night. His white lines almost glowed without him commanding them to in the rays of light. She wrinkled her nose at the thought, she was foolish. She could not distract herself from the task at hand, she did not have the time nor energy for men, especially men that dressed themselves in spikes that screamed _stay away from me or I'll make you eat your own heart. _

"I would, the Templars don't even regard me, it seems, they all think I'm an annoying smuggler and that's about it," she replied, snapping herself out of her trail of thought by the elf's scowl turning into a full blown glower.

He gestured towards the door, nodding forward without replying to her. She found it odd, but maybe he had nothing to say and his life as a slave didn't teach him the simple mechanics of starting and ending a conversation.

They went to the Hanged Man and found that Isabela, Varric, Merril and her brother were waiting for her. They all greeted her with a smile apart from her brother who gave her a stern nod. She rolled her eyes, she knew he was annoyed that she went to Merrill's on her own, and that he was even more annoyed that she went to get Fenris without anyone with her, Fenris had made his hatred of mages quite known the last few days.

"Varric, Merrill, are you ready to head out?" she said, nodding at the dwarf and the pirate who lounged in their chairs casually as if they were about to go on a picnic rather than a man hunt.

"Merrill's not going; I am, sister," Carver said, his eyes glowering at her.

"Carver, I am a big girl and I am not scared to go there on my own," Hawke said, not wanting her brother to come along. She was sick of being almost coddled by her brother, ever since…

Ever since Bethany had died.

"I am not letting you walk into the blighted Gallows without me. What happens if you get taken?" he said in a hush tone, his eyebrows furrowed displaying the same Hawke stubbornness that they both possessed.

"I'm barely a mage, they wouldn't even bother with little old me," she said, trying to make the situation lighter.

It only made her brother more annoyed; he gave her a scowl that rivalled the one that Fenris had thrown at her earlier.

"Junior, I'll be there and I'll make sure Hawke stays away from the men with the shiny stuff," Varric joked, aiding her attempt at lightening the mood.

Isabela barked out a laugh at Varric's statement, obviously thinking it was ridiculous to insinuate that Hawke would even dare go near a _man's shiny's. _

"Even so, I will be accompanying her," he said it as if it were fact and Hawke rolled her eyes in defeat.

"Well, if that's what you want, brother dearest, then so it shall be," she said, dipping into a low bow at her brother who shook his head at her dramatics, "but I will not be blamed for having my way with the men and their shiny armour," she said adding a wink whilst she got up from her bow.

"Hawke, you make life a lot more fun to be around," Varric chuckled, strapping Bianca on his back as they made their way out to the gallows…

The Gallows courtyard was full of Templars, as she had expected. Kirkwall was a city, much larger than the rural town of Lothering, when she grew up she knew of only five Templars that were based in the farm town. But Kirkwall, on the other hand, had a small army of them. They watched the mages around the Gallows with cold eyes, watching for any one of them to crack and become a demon's vessel.

She entered the Gallows with a feigned manner of confidence, this was the largest gathering of Templars she had ever seen and it put her on edge. She looked around to see if she could recognise the Templar that was speaking to the elven woman in the Alienage, but had no luck. She observed the Templars and the mages for a moment longer, looking for their leader.

"I have heard of the Circle outside the imperium but I have not been in one," Fenris said, looking around the gallows courtyard that was littered with old imperium slave statues with curiosity. His eyes cast around the many Templars that were flashing them suspicious glances and turned to Hawke, "are you sure it is why for you to be here?" he asked, his eyes darting around the Templars as if watching for them to notice Hawke.

"Yes, like I said I'm just here to speak to Thrask," she replied once again looking around the Gallows.

She found a man stood near the stairs, his arms were crossed and he viewed everyone in the courtyard with great scrutiny as if watching to make sure protocols were being done correctly and routine was in order. She had a gut feeling that this was indeed the leader she had been looking for, and made her way towards him.

"This seems more like a prison, I wonder if it is more effective than the Circle I know," Fenris murmured more to himself than Hawke, but she still replied to him.

"The Circle is necessary for some," she whispered, approaching the Templar leader.

"Hello, I was wondering if you could aid me, Serah, my name is Hawke," she introduced herself, bowing slightly at the Templar that stood before her. He had rugged manly features, and donned stubble on his face. He was still young, but she could tell by his eyes that he had seen many things in his short time on this world.

"Serah Hawke, I must say you are not quite the ten foot ogre eating man that I have heard so much about," the Templar said, bowing slightly. He was quite knightly it seemed.

"No, I am afraid I am not, Serah, you should know better to listen to rumours," she said, returning his bow with a confident wink. The Templar had not seized nor screamed apostate at her, so she knew that her years of practise had fared her well.

"I am Knight Captain Cullen, and I try not to. I find myself happy to see you are the complete opposite of these rumours, although none of them spoke of how lovely you were," he said, giving her a small smile.

She pursed her lips and smiled at him, knowing when to back down on the banter to make sure no one thought she was flirting back. She resisted looking at her brother or Varric or she would most likely go red to her roots, he was something that Isabela would have described as dreamy. She cursed herself for being around the pirate too much.

"I thank you for you compliment, but I have not come here for your delightful conversation. I am looking for Ser Thrask, I have taken up a request from Arianni of the Alienage and was wondering if he could assist me in my work," she explained, becoming business-like.

"Delightful indeed, Ser Thrask is speaking with Sol the herbalist,"

"I thank you, Ser Cullen. Good day," she said, bidding him farewell. Before she could move another step he grabbed her wrist whilst she turned, sending waves of panic into her body. She turned around expecting him to clap in her in irons to be amongst her kind.

"I was wondering, the next time I escort the recruits to the Hanged Man, if I may have the honour of buying you a drink?" he asked, smiling at her none the wiser to what she truly was.

"I would like that, Serah," she said, nodding a farewell and walking towards the herbalist's stall.

She heard Carver and Varric snicker, and turned around with a faint warmness on her cheeks. Fenris' face seemed indifferent to what had happened. Maybe, he thought nothing of the flirting she had participated on him yesterday and thought nothing of what happened. _Maker, she was giving him the impression she and Isabela were very alike._

She wrinkled her nose at her overthinking and then eyed her brother and the dwarf with disdain.

"Yes? Is something amusing?" she asked, eyeing the dwarf who smiled up at her sweetly.

"Just me and Junior laughing at the irony of the possible outcomes from that drink," Varric said, his eyes twinkling under Hawke's stern gaze.

"Nothing will come of it, thank you, but I thought it wise not to deny him given his status and what I am and what I want to do and with whom is nothing to find funny anyway," she snapped, making her brother and the dwarf laugh a little more. Her eyes glared over to Fenris, and she saw even under his mask of indifference the corners of his lips turned up slightly.

"Can you imagine it if they got married?" Carver snorted, still chuckling with the dwarf.

"I wish it would happen, can you imagine his fucking face! I think I found my next novel, the apostate and the Templar," Varric snickered.

She rolled her eyes and scowled at them, making them both shut up abruptly. At least they knew that when she scowled it meant the time for joking was over.

Thrask was speaking to the herbalist, Sol, animatedly, almost as if they were good friends rather than Templar and mage, it was odd for Hawke to see a sight like this, there was always general animosity between the two sides and her family were living proof of it. Lothering was the place they had stayed the longest but her childhood had been moving from one to place to another with barely any personal possessions. Father only ever allowed them to take essentials.

She coughed politely whilst she stood next to the Templar she had seen earlier today.

"Good day, Serah, I hear you are the Templar pursuing Feynriel. I have agreed to help Arianni in the pursuit for her son and was wondering if you had found anything significant regarding him," she said politely, once again giving the Templar a low bow.

The man had kind eyes, she noticed as he looked at her. He was far from the stereotype that she had come to believe all Templars were. He nodded a greeting but was altogether suspicious of Hawke, as he had every right to be. He told her everything she needed to know however, and when she exited the Gallows she felt somewhat relieved that she was not clapped in irons ready to take her Harrowing that very day.

They went to speak to the boy's father too, he had some distrust of their group when they first approached him but Hawke must have sounded sincere to him because when she vowed he would not be harmed he told her everything. He spoke quickly and Hawke found it rather hard to understand his heavy Antivan accent, when she left after bidding him good day she had to ask anyone if they got any of that.

"You are veeery preeetty lady, si?" Varric said, trying with great difficulty to copy the man's accent.

"Varric, that was terrible, I don't think I can talk to you for a while after that," Hawke said, rolling her eyes in mock-disgust at the dwarf.

"So, all we have to do is wait until night fall and find this ex Templar. Fenris you don't have to come with us, if you don't want to," she said, looking at the lyrium laced elf; Templars were renowned for taking lyrium to aid them in their skills, and an ex Templar would be suffering from extreme withdrawal, having had his supply cut off. It would surely be unwise to bring Fenris to such a person.

The elf gazed down at her with an annoyed expression on his face, it seemed he did not work out what she had. He loomed over her for a second and then became the figure of indifference once again. _Maker, he was tall for an elf!_

"I am able to fight, Hawke," he said, his face stoic.

"Yes, I know that very well, I have seen you. But I do not want you going to an ex Templar with lyrium withdrawal, he'll be able to smell it from a mile away and you're ahem, hmm, how do I phrase it. He could start to get a little edgy if he works out what your tattoos truly are," she explained to him, not wanting the man to come into harm's way, this was not his plight and it seemed he had only just grasped his own freedom, she didn't want to make him more hunted, especially if this Samson had a lot more ex Templar friends.

He shot another expression at her, his face as always unreadable.

"I thank you for your concern, no matter I will come with you I doubt he would be able to extract anything from me," he said, a cool confidence in his voice.

"Fenris, I don't want you in harm's way," she started to say, but he raised a clawed hand in defiance, signalling the conversation had ended.

"I hate that this job involves so many blighted Templars," Carver huffed more to himself than anyone, but Hawke found that she agreed terribly.

They walked towards the alleyway in Lowtown that led to Darktown just as it had begun to get dark, and found the ex-Templar Samson to be the complete opposite of what she had expected, from what she could decipher from Vincento's heavy accent. He was pale and was very unkempt, his eyes sunken in from the obvious withdrawal to the lyrium.

"Huh, Vincento said someone come sniffing around," Samson said, his voice raspy as if he were in need of a drink, "you're looking for the boy, Feyn something?" he added, eyeing up Hawke suspiciously.

"Indeed I am, Serah, since Vincento has obviously told you everything," Hawke said, watching the man's fingers as they twiddled and grabbed at thin air. Oh he could definitely smell the lyrium in the air, but he didn't have the energy to do anything about it.

"I'll tell you now, there's not much I can do for you. There weren't much I could do for him either, lad was dead broke, not a copper to his name, can't be helping one mageling for nothing, I won't be getting paid again. So I pointed him to a ship I knew, under command of Captain Reynar sometimes hell take 'em on. Might have gone wrong though, might be taking him captive instead," he drawled, not seemingly bothered about the safety of the boy who had come to him for help.

Hawke's eyes narrowed at the pathetic excuse for a man as he stared at her blankly, not even so much bothered that her temper was starting to get the better of her. She wrinkled her nose but even that motion was denied by her temper.

"What do you mean _might_?" Hawke hissed, disgusted in this pitiful excuse of a soldier from the mighty order of the maker. He made her feel sick.

"I just drop 'em off away from Circle, don't care what happens next. My jobs done, ain't it, said the same to other mage that asked for my help with no coin last week" he said, his sunken eyes boring into hers. "You got any dust?" he asked her, eyeing their belts for even a sniff of lyrium.

"No, I do not have any dust," she sneered at the man, whose hand movements were becoming frantic. "Do you have any idea where he could be now?"

"Reynar would have put them in his foundry warehouse 'til his business is complete,"

"And what will happen to them when his business is complete?" she asked, restraining herself from ripping the man's head off. How could someone be so uncaring? She looked at his hands again, they were practically vibrating. It seemed his addiction for lyrium had eaten away his very soul.

"He'll probably sell them with rest of cargo," he replied.

That was it, she could not hold in her rage any longer. The fact that these mages and other innocent people were going to be enslaved and sold like boxes of fruit and this man had just said it so casually you would have thought he was merely remarking on the weather. After traipsing round for information all day she had truly had her last straw. Fenris' growl explained exactly how she felt towards slavery.

"Fucking arsehole," she said to Samson as she turned to storm off, he didn't seem even dazed by her insult.

"So now what?" Varric panted, trying to match her pace as she walked quickly away from the Templar.

"What do you fucking think, dwarf?" she asked him incredulously, as if he was asking a very obvious question.

"I guess we're off to rescue some damsels?" Varric asked, although he already knew the answer.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

So, I had to split this because it was so long, but I decided since I hadn't updated you guys deserved these two chapters!

Thank you, to my beta she is so great! Honestly, Enchantm3nt! I love you, I do.

Thank you for your reviews/follows/favourites!

x

She dived into the shadows on the way to the Lowtown foundry, opting for stealth and speed rather than an open attack. As they got closer she made a bird noise out to Varric: their signal that she was going to scout first and she would signal again.

The warehouse was silent. It seemed that most of the cargo had been moved and the only remaining things to be shipped were a few crates, there was no sign of any slaves or Feynriel. She signalled for the others to come forward, but before she could wait for them she heard struggling and voices coming from a room at the back.

"Get a hold of her!" a man's voice shouted as she heard the quick footsteps of someone trying to flee.

Hawke burst through the door not thinking of her own welfare and found a woman wearing circle robes being cornered by two men with swords; they jeered at her as she backed up into the corner. She screamed again, but they didn't listen as they manhandled her. Hawke looked at the woman and froze for second, remembering things from years past.

"Please, help me… anyone," the mage moaned as they grabbed her.

"Get the hands! I've heard they can't do no fucking magic without their hands being free," one of them shouted to his partner, as he grabbed the rope to tie her hands.

"NO!" Hawke screamed, but it was too late.

The mage started to shake violently, she knew she the woman was battling the temptation of a demon, but the vibrating indicated the demon was winning. The shaking became more erratic and the woman burst into flames, the abomination taking over her entire being, making her flesh mangled and her face deformed.

The abomination flew into the air, hitting one of the men into the wall and killing him instantly.

"You know nothing of magic!" the abomination roared to the other man, who had yelped and scarpered as fast he could. Hawke couldn't blame him; this girl had sacrificed herself to be rid of these men.

She heard running behind her and Varric's familiar voice broke her out of her frozen horror at the abomination.

"Hawke, you don't have to run off you're not- holy shit!" Varric said behind her, obviously only just noticing the abomination.

Hawke felt truly sorry for the young woman, many years ago that could have been her. It was at least some comfort that she could send the girl to the Maker's side with some mercy rather than that of the Templars.

She grabbed her blades and readied herself for the fight. She dived for the abomination, aiming for its chest but it seemed to already know her plan, it began to lift her up into the air but before it could even throw her she saw the familiar flare of blue phasing near it causing it to be distracted by Fenris in full glow. It dropped her to the floor.

She sliced at its feet, trying to bring it down but it seemed it would not go without a fight. She dived in between Carver and Fenris who were slashing it in unison, slicing where she could. It began to weaken, and she decided to take her opportunity in giving the woman that it was once before some mercy.

But she was too late; Fenris snarled in the night and lunged his sword right in the heart. Its scream was high pitched, and its body fell to the ground with a thud. He looked at her almost victoriously as if he had purposefully stolen the kill for his own.

She rolled her eyes at the elf, and knelt down to look to see if there was anything left of the woman before, in the pocket of the ripped dress she found a letter signed to Ser Thrask.

_Father, _

_I know the sacrifices you've made to conceal my secret, but I am a child no longer. I cannot burden you my whole life, lest my secret destroy us both. I must live my own life as a woman... and as a mage. It is oddly freeing to write the word. _

_Farewell, Father. I hope one day you make peace between what you have been taught and what you have seen. _

_All my love,  
Olivia _

Hawke could not believe that the mage before her was a Templar's daughter. It seemed so against nature, the laws stated that no children could be made from the Circle, and if any did occur they would not stay with their parents. A thousand questions popped into her head for Ser Thrask, especially the irony and hypocrisy of today's event.

She turned to face the group who were waiting for her to say something expectedly, and for once she seemed lost for words, she passed the letter to Varric who read it aloud for the group. She could feel the heat of eyes piercing her and found that they belonged to Fenris. He stared at her intensely, and although she stared back she could sense the other man that had manhandled the mage hiding behind one of the crates, waiting to move.

She felt it again whilst she stared at him, some form of moth or butterfly in her stomach. He seemed to be looking at her deeply, as if trying to read her thoughts.

The man behind the crate tried to make a run for it, but she already knew what he was going to do. She took the throwing knife that she kept on her belt and aimed it at the man's head before turning back round to the group nonchalantly, as if they were playing a harmless game of crochet. The chink of metal and thud confirming that it had made its mark.

She walked towards the chest that was stood on one of the crates and found it to be unlocked. There were a few pieces of gold, and some odd trinkets but she was more concerned about the paper in there. It was as she suspected, the captains accounts; a loose term for accounts since it was more of an inventory of every elf, mage and other person that he had rounded up to be sold into a life of slavery, plus a few trade items that were surprisingly legal.

She groaned seeing that Feynriel had been taken to Darktown, this seemed like some fucked up scavenger hunt.

"Well, I know where he is, at least," she groaned, passing the letter to Varric.

"Sister, why can't we have easy jobs?" Carver asked groaning at the inventory that told them Feynriel was with a slaver in Darktown.

"You saw what happened when we took an easy job," she said, nodding her head to Fenris who scowled at her.

"I shall endeavour to exist with less offense, Hawke," Fenris scowled.

"Why thank you so much, Fenris, although no one is complaining about you being here," Hawke said indifferently.

"Yep, especially you," Varric muttered, making Carver flash a small smile at the witty dwarf's words.

"Pardon, Varric?" she asked, her eyes narrowing at the dwarf who smiled at her sweetly. She did not trust that smile any more than she trusted her own.

She rolled her eyes at the dwarf's innuendos. She hadn't stared at the elf that much, and if she had it was for the blazing hatred he allowed to exhale all over her with his mere presence. He watched her just as much, most likely checking if she was still human.

"Are we going now?" Carver asked, yawning despite himself.

"Yes," Hawke said, as if they were asking stupid questions.

"Hawke, we all need sleep. We don't just hang about on rooftops at night like you do, waiting for the sun to break; the dark heroine who lives amongst the shadows," Varric said, embellishing the statement far too much. It was one of the many things she enjoyed about the dwarf however.

"Indeed, well go ahead and go to sleep," she retorted in annoyance. She needed to find the boy before something happened to him; with or without her entourage.

"Hawke, that means you as well," Varric sighed, rubbing his eyes from fatigue.

"I think not, I won't stop until I find him," she said, looking down at the exhausted dwarf with an air of stubbornness.

"If you go out there alone, you will surely fall prey to these slavers yourself," Fenris said ominously, adding to the conversation.

Hawke's eyebrow raised up at the sound of Varric and Fenris agreeing with each other. It almost felt she was being ganged up and forced to go to sleep. _Surely, the escaped slave could see that they had to stop the hunters now rather than later?_

"I think I'd look rather fetching with chains on," she said, a coy grin on her face making Fenris scowl at her.

_Of course Aria, when cornered laugh it off… _

"That is not something you wish to say lightly, you know nothing of slavery," Fenris growled, his normal mask of indifference cracking quickly. It seemed that the former slave was driven by nothing but his temper.

"You know nothing of me; therefore my knowledge of slavery is also unknown to you. This isn't the point, the point is that either you can help me or I'll ask Merrill and Anders, make a choice," she said, just wanting to get the boy safe and sound. She had already seen one mage succumb to the pleas of a demon and didn't want the same to happen to the young elf.

"Oh yes, let's send the abomination and the blood mage, I'm sure they are _exactly_ the role models that the apostate boy needs," fenris argued back, leaving Varric to sigh and watch where the debate was going.

Her eyes narrowed at Fenris at the words abomination and blood mage, for a moment she considered maybe slapping him. She was frustrated, she felt like she had accomplished nothing today but watching another mage become a demon.

"Oh and what am I then, Fenris?" she spat at him, waiting for his response. It felt good to argue with someone.

He narrowed his gaze at her, his eyes becoming slits as he obviously thought of something to argue back to her. Before he could say anything, Varric cut into the conversation.

"Hawke, I say we sleep on it, then we go talk to him. He's not going to tell us where he's hiding all the slaves he's been gathering if we sneak up on him whilst he's in his nightie snoring like a high dragon," Varric said, with Carver nodding in agreement.

"Fine, but only if I get to sleep with you, my dear dwarf," she said, trying to lighten up. She knew what she was going to do, regardless of what they wanted her to do. Her will bent to no man, or anyone for that matter. Possibly her mother on a bad day, but it had to be a _very_ bad day.

"As much as I would love that my beautiful bird of prey, I think Bianca would get jealous," Varric said, throwing her a wink.

"Fine, I'll go to sleep. You win," she said, luring them into their fake victory. She would go home, wait until her brother started his drooling that signalled that he was fast asleep and take to scaling the rooftops and get to Darktown, maybe calling on Merril and Anders on her way.

"I don't normally say this crap, but thank the ancestors!" Varric triumphed, walking towards the door…

She waited in her bed for at least an hour, knowing her brother's tell-tale signs like the back of her hands. As soon as he fell into a deep sleep she quickly changed into her armour, choosing the new black leather set she had purchased. It was a coal black and would enhance her ability to hide within the shadows. She quickly tied her hair in a bun and tip-toed towards the door and walked into the fresh air that was Lowtown.

It was twilight, not quite night time but not quite day. She grabbed at the loose bricks of Gamlen's hovel and began to climb to the roof tops, her pace quickening at the thought of waking her brother (or even worse Gamlen) up with her climbing.

She ran quickly around the rooftops, avoiding the chimneys that were dotted around the roofs with great ease. In the year that she had been here it had become common for her to scale the rooftops of Kirkwall, and in an odd sort of way the rooftops felt like home, more so than her uncle's home. Whilst running freely along the rooftops, dodging the parts that were beyond repair she felt like she was running through a field in the farm hold, but somewhat more concrete and smoky.

She got to the last house and flipped with great ease, enjoying the thrill of the motion. Carver always thought she did it just to show off to people, but she truly did it because the feeling of having her blood rush to her in an adrenaline rush just reminded her of being a child again. The swift arch of her body and the way her body and mind were connected so primarily, were also benefactors for her love of flipping and diving all over the place. In fact, if she got the money for the expedition, one of the Amell estate rooms would be converted into her own training ground. Where she could flip and twist and no one would think she was a mere show girl to entertain them with her flexible flesh.

She landed on the cobbled pavement, near the stairs leading to Darktown, but before she could gather her bearings, a hand grabbed her arm; instinctively she snarled. She looked up and the first thing she noticed was his white hair. He was looking at her with a deep scowl, almost like the one her father used to give her when she would_ accidently _set Carver's trousers on fire.

"Hawke," he merely stated, looking down at her annoyed.

"Fenris, I thought you were living up in your Hightown mansion? You shouldn't be out on your own at this time," she joked, removing his arm as if was something distasteful she had trodden on in the street. He was very close to her and she didn't like it one bit, yet a familiar burn flared in her stomach. She jolted back, leaving a gap between them.

"That is not your concern, I was merely strolling the streets unlike you with your obvious intent. The dwarf said that it was the first time you had complied with anything they suggested, I found this anomaly to be somewhat suspicious," he said, a smug grin on his face as he had caught her out.

"Oh! And you thought you'd come to my rescue to make sure I didn't go see the big bad slaver all on my own? Thank you for your kindness, it has touched my heart. Now move the fuck away it's none of your business," she retorted, if this elf intended to stay amongst their gang of misfits he would surely learn that when Hawke had something on her mind, she would go do whatever it was. She would call it ambition, Carver and her mother both called it _stubbornness._

He cocked an eyebrow at her sarcasm, but did not let any other emotion escape his face.

"I am merely trying to get you to realise how strategically insufficient your goal of running into a slaver den alone is, and I didn't intend to run into you, I was walking back from speaking with the dwarf and I heard something on the roof," he insisted, but it made her even more suspicious.

"Lovely, thank you for your concern, good night," Hawke said, walking past him. She heard him curse quietly in Tevinter, and then he seemed to take it upon himself to follow her. Whilst she walked down the stairs he was silent for a while.

"You are stubborn, Hawke," he stated, as they walked towards Anders' clinic.

"And you are being extremely rude," Hawke snapped back.

"Why is it so urgent that you do this now? Varric was right, we need our rest to go against these slavers," he said.

"Fenris, what would you do if they were going to capture you?" Hawke asked him, knowing full well what the white haired elf would in fact do, he would shine blue and tear out the hearts of everyone in the vicinity, she didn't know him well but she knew it to be true.

"If I was as exhausted as you are, I would find somewhere to rest at least for a few hours, then I would come up with a plan," Fenris replied, keeping up with her quickened pace.

That shocked her, the man obviously oozed hate and walked around in spikes that screamed to anyone who dared look at them _STAY AWAY _ she did not think that he would be so strategic, then again this man had freed himself from his master and had been on the run for a while now, without being caught.

"I am not exhausted, and I will not sleep until the boy and the others are safe. You don't know me very well Fenris, and normally I'd be perfectly charming to a new person in town, but _stop_ stalking me with the aim of talking me down. I'm doing this," she said bluntly. It was true, with or without her friends she would go to find the apostate boy and the others that this slaver had taken. Fenris did not know her, but surely Varric should have known by now? She would not sleep until they were safe; it was a personal vendetta that she kept close to her heart. In her heart she knew that everyone should be free, even the Circle should have its own sense of freedom, but with discipline. What could she say? She was an idealist.

He seemed to just follow her in silence then, he could tell she was exhausted? He was the first person to notice when the fatigue kicked in apart from Carver. Most people never seemed to notice how exhausted she was, and yet this elf had noticed within knowing her no more than a week or so? He was extremely perceptive it seemed, she didn't like that one bit. To be under the spot light of someone's gaze that could see her friendly mask, it truly scared her…

When they got to the clinic, they found Anders… And Varric.

He was sat on one of the cot beds, his short dwarven legs not reaching the ground; he was swinging them almost like a child as he hummed to himself. He turned round and met Hawke's gaze with a wicked grin, almost jumping off the bed as he walked towards her with the same all-knowing and smug grin.

"Well, Daisy, is this a makeover or make under? You seem somewhat uglier than I remember," Varric cajoled, winking at Fenris.

"Silence, Dwarf, I apprehended her before she made it to the alienage it seemed. I was intending on going home and not following with your plan, especially the part where we have to meet at the abomination's clinic," Fenris growled, making Varric's smile widened.

"It's okay, Broody, you know I love you too! So how did you apprehend our dear Hawke here?" he asked, looking at Hawke as she rolled her eyes. Of _course_ Varric knew; he had been working with her for a while now, she should have seen the sincerity when he bade her goodnight and said he was glad she finally listened to him. _Fucking rogues…_

"I could hear her on the roof," Fenris stated, ignoring Varric's jests.

"Hawke, you wound me! You're getting careless if even the elf could hear you whilst in a fit of broody rage!" Varric said, eyeing her up as if she was some relic he was going to sell.

"Or maybe he was hunting me down to rid the world of another mage, then he saw me going to Anders' clinic and thought two birds one stone!" Hawke said, joining the conversation.

She couldn't see Ander's but she heard a loud snort come from the back of the clinic, meaning that he was listening to the conversation. Fenris noted the snort and rolled his eyes, his lips mashed together as if he was holding back the insults. She could feel them almost frothing at his mouth.

"If he did that, Bianca and I may have to do something about him," Varric joked, winking at her wit.

"You and I seem to have an accord, my dear dwarf," Hawke said, looking down smiling at the dwarf that she was so comfortable with it seemed like they had always been friends.

"You're not bad for a human, Hawke" he laughed, winking at her.

It was nice that there was someone in this city apart from her brother that seemed to know her better than most. Varric seemed trustworthy to her and worthy of her time and honour, he seemed to know her and her moods already. She enjoyed his company; it was easy to joke and be free with him there. He distracted her from her thoughts and doubts; he helped strengthen her mask when she could feel it almost cracking.

Anders made an appearance then, he was smiling at her so casually it irked her a bit. It was as if she had asked him to go for a picnic with her and make castles of sand on the beach rather than storm into his clinic in the early hours of the morning. He seemed relaxed, as if there wasn't any spirit of justice in his head whispering of the injustices that mages had to suffer. She wrinkled her nose as the thought; _you're the perfect poster girl for his cause, Hawke. _

Anders grinned at the sight of her wrinkling her nose, "does my clinic smell too _Darktown_ to you, Hawke?" he asked, a playful grin on his face.

"Does an apple smell too fruity to you, my dear mage?" she asked rhetorically, a coy grin on her face.

Anders reminded her of her father a little. It was the smell of lyrium and elfroot and whatever other manly smell mingled with it, it was comforting to say the least. Despite, this spirit that plagued the back of her mind whenever she spoke to him, she still found herself at ease with him. He was indeed a caring man, he must have been to do such a thing as open a clinic for the poor and the refugees with little coin asked.

"It depends, is it rotten or ripe?" Anders replied back, smirking at his own wit.

"It depends on nothing, whether it is a ripe apple or a rotten one, it will still smell like a fruit, regardless of what end of its life span it's at," she replied back, enjoying the mage's wit.

"Ah, but what if it's a toffee apple?" Anders asked her, winking at her.

"Then if you take the toffee off, you will find that is indeed still an apple, just masked," she said, chuckling at the random debate about an apple that had transpired.

"You're intelligent, sweetheart, I'll give you that," Anders laughed.

"Thank you, I'm here for the foreseeable future depending on if we actually make it back from the Deep Roads and I don't contract the taint and spend my days feasting on darkspawn and mumbling in a corner," she said, going into a mock curtsey.

"Yes, well when you lovebirds are done," Varric drawled, obviously bored by Hawke and Anders argument on fruit, "You were in a bad mood, remember? Wanted to go slit some slaver's throats?"

"I've not forgot, I'm just getting to that part!" Hawke exclaimed, making the dwarf grin wickedly at her.

"Well, I'm up now and at your service, my lady," Anders said, going into a mock bow which made Fenris snort.

Anders eyed the elf for a moment, obviously wanting to say something but thinking otherwise.

"Lead the way Hawke,"

The slavers were based in one of dankest corners of Darktown, it was obvious to Hawke that they had set up in one of the worst spots in Kirkwall to look for potential slaves. People lived in poverty here, even to the point where maybe slavery wasn't so bad to them, making them easy prey to the slavers that dwelled there with them.

The slavers were already awake and dealing with crates in a hurried manner. Hawke suspected that the antics of last night's foundry incident had something to do with it. Maybe they knew she was coming, she didn't really care.

She walked down the stairs nonchalantly her eyes pointed at the man who was ordering the others around, obviously their leader. He wore mage robes, and a strange looking hat which looked foreign, giving off the impression he was definitely from these parts. As she walked up to him she heard Fenris growl in an animalistic manner; she prayed he would keep calm until they had spoken to the slaver.

The slaver looked at her up and down with greed, he licked his lips at the sight of her walking towards him, and when she stopped he laughed to the other men around the den.

"Well look here lads, volunteers! Clap 'em in irons, and let's see how much the Tevinters will pay for them," he laughed, his eyes looking at her breasts rather than her face. She wanted to vomit all over the floor at just the voice of the perverse man. She turned to Fenris, whose normal mask of indifference and stoic manner had vanished just at the mention of the land where his former master hailed from; he was ready to kill.

"Well, that is no way to talk to a lady," Hawke tittered, and looked at Fenris. " I feel you'd have great satisfaction in making him talk," she said,, he replied with a savage grin.

"I can do that," Fenris muttered before walking over to the slaver, his brands lighting up enthusiastically.

He plunged his radiating hand into the slaver, a cruel smug of satisfaction whilst the slaver squirmed with whatever Fenris was doing to his internal organs. He let go of the man who fell to the ground immediately, his hand grasping his chest where Fenris had grabbed and his face in total shock.

"Andraste's great flaming arse, how did you do that?" the man asked, whimpering almost in pain.

"Now, now, you know a magician should never show his tricks! My friend is being made to be a slave and he can't really do that since he promised me he would join me for tea," Hawke chuckled, it gave her great pleasure that the man was now like a worm rather than a cocky viper that had spat his venom as soon as he'd clapped eyes on her, maybe she should buy the elf a drink as a thank you.

"I stashed him in a cave on the edge of the wounded coast, Tevinters will be by to finish the deal today, now please, Maker I beg you, let me go!" the man pleaded, standing himself up.

"Sure… wait, I mean no," Hawke said sweetly, readying her attack.

She unsheathed her daggers and went straight in for the kill; these were the kind of people she had no afterthoughts or guilt about. These were the people that stole others as if they were merely furniture without any severe consequence, as if their families would just buy another and replace them. She would slice their innards out without a moment's thought.

Fenris charged into the fray, trying to distract them by being nothing more than a blue blur., as Hawke threw a smoke bomb she distinctively heard Varric and Bianca playing their renowned song, shooting bolt after of bolt. Anders was behind her, concentrating seriously on keeping her alive. It seemed the mage felt bad for the flesh wound she acquired up Sundermount the other day, he was focussing most of his magic either on her or around her.

She stared at Fenris for a moment who was scything his enemies and bringing them down as if they were nothing more than plants. He flashed her a feral smile and they began to dance together, daggers and greatsword becoming deadly partners. She flipped over him and let her instincts take over, when he swiped his sword at the slavers she would duck and slice their legs, he grabbed the last one with a blue fist and with a loud crack he threw out the man's heart, not even thinking about it. The elf was wild; literally everything she heard and saw from Fenris seemed wild. He was more beast than man, and she admitted to herself whilst they fought that it scared her.

When the last one fell, Fenris seemed to reign in his fierceness, and looked at her with an almost impassive expression. It was as if he controlled himself in every aspect of his life apart from when he fought. When he took his sword in his hands and charged into the enemy with not a seconds thought that was when he let go, he was truly wild. And yet there seemed to be two sides to Fenris, the beast and the perfectly reserved man. Hawke wondered how long it would take the beast to take control, unless the man balanced them both out.

"Better get our arses wherever the kid is before they realise what's happened, Hawke," Varric said in thought as he viewed the corpses amongst them as if they were flowers.

"Indeed, we do my dear dwarf then I promise you I will let you sleep, maybe I could polish Bianca for you," she said, winking at the dwarf.

"No, Hawke, no matter how many times you ask," Varric said, an eyebrow raised.

"Oh but until you say yes, I'm not going to stop," Hawke chuckled, accepting the red vial from Anders as she looked down on her dearest friend.

"Hawke, have you ever thought you might be annoying me and hurting my feelings, I don't like people trying to touch Bianca," Varric said, unblinkingly and with a serious expression on his face.

Hawke paused for a moment, worried she might have actually hurt the dwarf's feelings. Varric looked up at her with a wicked grin and his eyebrows waggling.

"Just shitting you, Hawke," he said.

Hawke stomped her foot and cursed whilst she trudged up the dirty stairs…

The slaver caverns were a labyrinth full of ditches, traps and slavers. After battling their way through for a good part of an hour, Hawke could feel her exhaustion in her bones. Hell, she could feel it in every part of her body, she thought to herself as she walked through the green vines of plants that littered the place.

"You are tired, just as I predicted," Fenris' voice came from behind her and he walked with her at her pace.

"Have you not heard, I'm best when I get an adrenaline rush," Hawke replied, her eyes lingering on Fenris for a moment before following the narrow path ahead as they walked.

"You are very strange for what you are, Hawke," Fenris stated, it was almost as if he wanted her reasons and validation for why she was so strange.

"Well, that's my aim! Surprise everyone!" she exclaimed quieter than she normally would, not daring to be her dramatic sarcastic self when they were in the arms of the enemy.

Fenris said nothing to her dramatic exclamation, but merely looked at her with deep jade eyes, as if scrutinizing her. She felt that when this elf looked at her, he was casually dipping his hand into her soul, as if trying to grasp something.

Before she could comment about his constant scrutiny, they had found the central hub of the slavers. Amongst the army of slave traders were cages full of men and woman and the odd few children. Hawke felt the pang in her stomach as her and the group viewed them from the shadows. She saw Feynriel was being kept near the makeshift desk where the leader was stood, poring over some documents.

She knew that if they attacked straight on, the boy and the rest of the slaves would surely die. She weighed her options for a moment and then followed her gut instinct, whispering to Varric, "Time to use that sweet mouth of yours," as she beckoned the group to follow her out of the shadows.

The slavers turned around and eyed her immediately, drawing out their weapons in suspicion. She left her daggers sheathed and used her smile as her assault. The leader peered at her from the upper level, pointing a dagger to Feynriel's throat without any hesitation.

"Take one more step, and the boy dies," the ring leader sneered, his dagger become closer to Feynriel's throat as if to empathise his threat.

Hawke feigned a high and mighty demeanour, whilst turning to Varric who copied her expression.

"Tell this dirt bag who we are," she said, jerking her head towards the slaver in a pompous attitude. She swore she saw the dwarf lick his lips as though hungry to concoct a story, but if she did it was soon gone.

"Do you know who you're dealing with? If I were you, I wouldn't be making death threats to the Viscount's son." the dwarf lied, pointing his head towards the now shaking boy.

"What?" was all the slaver could muster, it seemed he believed Varric instantly, and a worried expression paled his face.

"Oh, I bet you just got a tip from your slaver buddy that he was selling mage flesh cheap, didn't bother to ask where it came from, did you?" Varric continued, and the more he seemed to speak the more the slaver became to believe his lies.

"You never wondered whether you were buying the Viscount's love child, born from his elven mistress? The boy he swore to protect even if it means raising the entire Free Marches!" Varric said, completely getting into story. _Maker, did she appreciate this lying dwarf right now!_

The leader was either an idiot, or Varric was an exceptional liar. Either way, Hawke didn't really care as long as they could get the boy out of this mess alive. The slaver looked at the boy for a moment, truly worried and peered over to them.

"I want no war with free marches, take the lad to his father," he said, dropping the dagger and letting Feynriel move away from his grasp.

"Thank you kind sir," Hawke said, curtseying. She turned to look at Fenris whose nostrils were flared so high that his nose was in the shape of the letter V. He obviously thought that they were going to leave this place and favour their own lives instead of the people trapped in the taverns waiting to be sold. She couldn't be bothered trying to explain to the elf through code, so she pretended to bend down to arrange her boots, and quickly grasped the throwing knife she always kept so dear to her, and the smoke bomb she had strapped to her thigh belt just in case the Templars ever tried to come and get her. She threw the steel knife straight into the back of the leader, who slumped down immediately after letting out a loud scream. Before the other slavers had time to react she launched the smoke bomb, being invisible was an advantage that Hawke had to use well.

As she darted in and out of the smoke, slicing slaver after slaver she could see Fenris amongst them, his skin blazing blue. Did the elf not realise that because they were so outnumbered they had to use some sort of stealth rather than running in literally blazing? The slavers were gathering around him like he was a beacon. Hawke ran towards them, taking as many as she could with her daggers twirling, trying to defend her comrade before he became another corpse on the ground. Fenris was like a wolf backed into a corner, howling and snapping the bones of any of the slavers that were brave enough to try and confront him.

Anders was in the background, she could hear the mumbling of incantations and see the blue light emanating from his staff, and she had to hazard a guess that Varric was nearby, since she could hear him barking out insults and chortling as if it were a game.

She chased the legs of the slavers stabbing them in the mask of the smoke; Hawke did not think she was good at many things, quite frankly she knew she was terrible at most. But there was a great sense of fulfilment in killing those who would wrong so many innocents.

When the smoke faded, she found her companions unharmed and standing amongst corpses once again; Varric had taken to looting them already, smoke obviously not deterring him from the task of finding something valuable. Anders strode towards her, concern in his face as he hopped over the dead bodies.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes swirling with concern and care.

"In all honesty, I'm exhausted. But at least it's over with now," Hawke said, running her hands through her soaked fringe, the sweat making it stick to her forehead.

"You work too hard," he said in a tender tone, touching her arm as an act of compassion. She looked into the healer's eyes and saw so many different emotions swirling in there it almost made her feel dizzy.

She shrugged his arm off, smiling at him. "So do you,"

The boy, Feynriel ran over to them when the smoke had completely cleared from where he was hiding.

"He had… had… a dagger to my throat! I mean thank you so much, but what would have happened if you were wrong?" the half elven boy said in a panic stricken tone.

"I'm barely ever wrong, am I Varric?" Hawke laughed, looking at Varric who replied with a wink.

"No, not most of the times, it's usually a Tuesday when you are, though," Varric joked back, at ease with the whole situation.

"It is Tuesday," Hawke chuckled, shaking her head at the banter her and the dwarf shared routinely.

The boy watched them in utter shock, he seemed confused as to why his saviours were so easily relaxed around a mountain of corpses, but nonetheless he seemed well despite the fact he had nearly become a slave.

"Who are you? Are you working for the Templars?" he asked, looking at them bitterly.

"Your mother sent me," Hawke replied, this time her voice sincere and not joking in anyway.

"Wow, that's hardly a difference," the boy snorted, looking at Hawke, "I can't believe my whole life it's been nothing but: I love you, you're my only family and then as soon as I have a few nightmares, she screams for the Templars!"

"I am here to help you, Feynriel," Hawke said, offering her aid before she had even thought about what the boy could ask of her.

"Why? You don't even know me!" the boy spat at her, obviously suspicious and angry with the card that life had dealt him.

"I have my own gifts, Feynriel," she said, looking at him with obvious eyes. The boy worked it out within two seconds, and obviously deemed that a good enough reason for he changed the subject after that.

"If I were a true elf, I'd be trained by the Dalish to be there new keeper by now, but no I'm going to get carted off to the Circle like I'm a bad secret,"

"Is that where you were intending to go, before you were captured?"

"I didn't care where I went, as long as it was far away from the blighted Templars," the boy groaned.

"I think we can understand that, Hawke," Anders pleaded, Hawke already knew the healer wanted to her let him run away from this dreadful city and for a moment she thought she would comply with his pleading tone, but then she remembered the nightmares and what they meant, it was obvious to any mage and most people, that a mage plagued by nightmares is being taunted by a demon in the Fade, trying to turn the pure mage black.

Varric and Fenris put no input into the conversation, she knew the dwarf wouldn't, whenever Anders had asked him about his view on the Templar vs Mage debate, the dwarf had merely laughed and said that it was a lot of humans in skirts. Fenris staying silent somewhat shocked Hawke, yet she had a feeling that if she chose to do something that would displease him he would become very vocal.

"Feynriel, if you went to the Dalish they would accept you but not with open arms, they would consider you a blemish on their kind for not being fully elf," Hawke said, watching the boy's reaction to what she had said.

He seemed calm about what she had said, as if he would rather be amongst them than stuck in the Gallows. The Dalish did not see magic as sinful as the Chantry; they were lenient in that way.

"I am as much Dalish as I am human, I'd rather be struck down by the Dalish than made Tranquil at the slightest nightmare. My mother said the Keeper could even take me on as her first, if I harnessed my magic," the boy said, obviously thinking it through for a few moments.

"Well, if you believe it would be a good idea, then I agree with your decision, you must control these nightmares. If you cannot, and you feel yourself slipping then you must take the required action," she said seriously, her tone no longer light as she viewed the boy as a potential abomination. But she knew that the elves would take him down with not even a blink of their cold eyes.

She heard Fenris snort behind her, and rolled her eyes. She had a feeling when the boy left that she would have to deal with either a few foreign curses, or a full blown rant. From the first day she had met the elf he had done nothing but spout about how mages were vipers, and that they were evil. She looked at his scowl from the corner of her eye.

_Well, at least he must like me enough to not give me a lovely pet name like he has with Anders and Merril. _

"Keeper helps him with his magic, no one gets locked up sounds like a good plan to me Aria," Anders said, ignoring Fenris' snort. She almost flinched at someone other than her family using her first name, but resisted it by concentrating on the boy that was debating about his fate.

"Thank you! In my wildest dreams I could not have foreseen your kindness!" the boy stammered, looking at Hawke as if she was his saviour.

"Well, get a move on before more of your delightful friends make an appearance," Hawke said, nodding at the exit.

As if not to be told twice, the boy moved quickly but before he made his way to the exit he thrusted himself upon Hawke, and hugged her tightly. She stood awkwardly whilst the boy embraced her, and was still a bit dazed after the boy had left.

She turned to see Varric giving her a wicked grin, as if knowing how uncomfortable the boy's forwards embrace had been. She gave him a stern glare, but it didn't deter the dwarf. Instead, she opted to go down the childish route, and just stick her tongue out at him in defeat.

"The Circle is necessary, you said," Fenris drawled, looking at her.

"I said sometimes," she replied coolly.

"That boy has all of the symptoms of becoming an abomination and you let him walk into the world," Fenris argued, his voice becoming strained as if he was trying to control himself.

"No, the dreams meant that he must have been resisting the demons well, plus the Keeper can sense when someone's willpower is beginning to wane and she will destroy whatever threatens her clan," Hawke replied, deflecting his argument with her reasons. She had quite a knack for debates, yet she tried to never raise her voice, unless it was an argument that was full of curses. _Nothing was good without a good curse._

Fenris looked as if he was about to say something, then faltered. She watched as he tried to find a way to argue back to her statement. It seemed he couldn't argue back, for he just merely mashed his lips together and nodded at her.

She felt smug that she had made the elf back down; it seemed something that not many people had the power to do. A lump rose to her throat as she thought that maybe her and his former master had something in common.

She turned her smug smile upon Varric, who yawned as if he was about to fall asleep in the slaver carven, Anders looked no different than his usual self, but she wondered if that was because he was always so exhausted; the healer opened his clinic for most of the day, and his spare time he hunted herbs and other regents to aid his clinic, and if it wasn't that it was trying to strike up a mage rebellion from the inside. Fenris, however, did not look remotely tired. It was as if the elf did not need sleep, or had been accustomed to not much sleep, unlike Varric and Anders he had no slump to his shoulders, and he was stood tall and stoic as always.

"If anybody needs me, leave a message with Norah at the bar and I'll most likely get out of hibernation next year," Varric said, stifling a yawn.

"I think I'll join with that," Hawke said, realising how exhausted she was.

"Hawke, how many times do I have to tell you? No threesomes, Maker, you're starting to sound like Isabela!" Varric exclaimed, putting his hand up as if to shoo her away like he did Isabela when she attempted to get her hands on his hairy chest.

"Oh up yours, bastard dwarf."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter sixteen- Another nightmare**

**This is done in first person thought I'd attempt to give it ago. There is no rape in this scene, although there is some torture. As we go along with these chapters, we get to see an explanation for why Hawke is like she is. This is quite key to the story, but if you don't want to read it later on there will be a vague explanation for whatever happened. **

**Thank you for reviews + follows + favourites. **

**My beta is amazing. :P Enchantm3nt. :3**

_I'm lying on the floor again and for the first time in four days I've been left alone. There is no Templar touching me with perverse hands, there is no mage to heal the rips and the wounds bestowed on me. I am alone on the floor. I am no longer covered in layers of my own blood and vomit; someone has taken to cleaning me. I don't question it as much as I should, maybe I'm waiting for death. _

_No one tells me anything, no one gives me a hint as to why they decided to pick a young apostate up and let the Templars vent their frustrations on her, and as the hours tick by I seem to care less for their reasoning. I hope they burn in hell with our fearful Maker, the one who decided to make my fate. _

_It's not been four days; it's been ninety seven hours and forty five minutes since I saw my family. Since I was walking amongst the woods, sometimes I wonder if it would be better if I had left a year ago with the Dalish. If I had been with Tamlen maybe I would have never been brought into harm's way. I attempt to frown at the thought, but the muscles on my face and still aching, and it turns into more of a half bothered grimace. If I'd have left, this could have been Bethany; she could be the one lying on the floor naked with no dignity left whatsoever. I have been used, I have been broken, but at least it was me and not my little sister. _

_It's a bitter pill, but I'll take it nonetheless, that my still being here may have saved her. The silence is welcoming, just like death. I want the silence to kill me, before their torment begins. I am used, like a sex toy, an object not a person. And yet they want to see the objects reaction, I've noticed that they like it more when I'm in pain, so I've been practising my self-control. I let them do what they want to my body, but my mind closes itself off. More and more each day, whenever they try to break me it makes me stronger. _

_There are footsteps now, and I'm scared. I'm terrified. I know it's going to start again, they said it would stop soon. They lied. Their leaders are not coming, and by the time they do, I will be dead. The whispers come with the footsteps; they know how much the footsteps scare me. _

_The door opens, and I brace myself. I am ready for the next onslaught, but I fear that I will succumb. The demons beckon me, they seethe and slither in my head, pleading and offering themselves to me like whores. I know they want my body and my soul, and if it comes to that maybe I would accept it. For now, I am holding on. _

_The footsteps get louder and come to a halt. There are about four pairs of eyes on me, but I daren't look up, for when I look into the men's eyes, they get angry. It is my eyes that reflect the savage brutality that they are committing. None of them can look in my eyes, apart from the one they called Derek, his voice makes me nauseated. _

"_Are you well, child?" a man's voice says to me. It is cold and bitter, hot and sweet. It is misleading, and tricky. This man's voice is something I know I will never forget that is to say if I do not die here first. _

_I cannot answer his question, more simply that I daren't. I'm too scared and my fear is overpowering. _

"_I said, are you well child?" the voice says, commanding me to open my eyes and look upon him. He is an old man, donning a casual set of armour unlike the heavy chainmail of the Templars. Yet, he still bares their insignia; it is splattered on his chest plate as if he is bold propaganda. _

_I try to nod, but my skull just vibrates. I hope this man gives me the kindness of a clean death. I don't want my throat slit whilst his comrades rape and destroy what's left of my body. I am merely nothing but a sack of flesh; I've come to terms with it. My mind will drift away in time. _

"_Someone get the child some clothes," the man says, and someone quickly walks away. He grabs my arm and sits me up right. His eyes are a steel grey; they are cold and warm at the same time. I cannot think what to make of this man, he is misleading. _

_He looks down at the chains that bind me, and puts himself to work undoing them, I secretly thank him; it feels like they have been on my body so long that they have become part of my skin. I wonder what he wants with me, I pray it's not the same as the other men, I am spent. I am done. I just want to die. I just want it all to end, the whispers, the defiling of my body; I want to wake up and for it all to be a terrible nightmare. Could I be in the Fade? Could this be a test? Could I just wake up tomorrow and see my father busying himself with the breakfast with mother, humming to her morning tune?_

"_Can you dress yourself, child?" he asks, his skin is old and lined and he looks at me with the same concern a parent would over their infant. _

"_Yes," I breathe, and it feels almost worrying to speak. It is as if I lost the right to speak days ago, and that by replying to this man I am breaking a thousand laws. _

_There are others in the room, I sweep my gaze amongst them and see a woman donning a staff, her face is pointed and her eyes are small like slits, she looks almost like a cat. There is dwarf also accompanying them, his beard is jet black much like his hair and his eyes are an ice blue that pierce whatever soul I have left. _

_The other person I heard before comes in and I almost vomit in shock, I curl myself up as the Templar that touched me the first night walks in, his oily hair slicked back and his face almost amused as the sight of him makes me curl up in a ball and give up, just let the demons come to me and die inside and out. _

_The older man in the lighter armour notices my fear, and grabs the clothes that the other man has brought aggressively, turning his back on me as he looks at his companion. _

"_You knew your orders and so did Alrik, you were not to touch this girl," he says, almost in a calm manner which sets my fear off again, pain and fear seemed to be the only things that keep me company anymore. _

"_She bit one of my men, so she was taught a lesson," the man replies, his sickly voice entering my very core. I could feel the vomit churning in my stomach; I had eaten nothing but bread and bowl of water for the past four days. They would laugh as I lapped the water from the bowl; it amused them to see their whore drink like a bitch. _

"_And you disobeyed your orders, Eric. So by your own logic, you too should be taught a lesson," the man counters, nodding to the mage with the pointed features. The mage's face becomes almost overwhelmed with joy at whatever the nod means. _

_She turns to the Templar, and with at flick of her hand he is on the floor writhing and jerking in agony. Her hand emits a bright red hue, and I could tell from the instance it was blood magic. _

_He screams out in pain, and it makes me glad. He deserves his fate, he asked for it. I cannot save him and will not save him in my current state. His screams become louder and the woman revels in his pain, as if she has become lost in his screams. He begins to beg for it to stop, spitting blood from his mouth. It just makes her work harder, the red glow almost lighting the entire room, and her face becomes more feral. He is close to death; I almost hear his heart giving up. _

"_Stop, Olivia," the man requests, and the Templar that I now knew to be called Eric pants heavily, the red light dimming at the command of the man's voice. He does not seem remotely concerned that the other man is on the floor close to death, he merely waves his hand as if mentally asking someone to get rid of him. _

_The dwarf helps the rapist up as best as he can, and Eric holds onto the wall for support. Two other Templars that had defiled me also for the past few days come in, and pick him up to leave, but before they can the man warns them "This is what happens when you do not listen to your orders," _

_He turns back to me then, staring into my eyes. He has a scar on his face; I can see it well now the door had been fully opened to get the injured Templar out. It runs down from his eyebrow to his upper lip. Whatever had happened to him had severely left its mark on him. _

_He passes me the clothes and I shakily put the trousers and the top on, it takes me several attempts, yet he waits patiently. He stares at me as if admiring me. I know this man is not going to rape me, but I feel something else is going to happen, I feel it in bones. _

"_What is your name, child?" he asks his eyes scanning every detail of my face. _

"_A-aria," I stutter. _

"_You are a very pretty girl, Aria," he says, tasting my name. _

_I say nothing, I don't know what to say. I don't want to react, the last time I reacted or tried to fight I was punished. _

"_I have a good feeling about you, child," he mutters more to himself than me. _

_He strokes my cheek in an endearing sort of way, the way Mother used to do with me when I was a young child. I don't understand. My body aches whilst my stomach begs for food. _

_He smiles at me as if I am sacred treasure. His smile haunts me and I know that if I ever make it out of here, it will be with me until I die. _


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter seventeen- Aveline **

**So, seventeen chapters! Never thought I'd get this far!**

**Debating whether to add Sebastian to the fic… I think I will, he's so shiny and pretty. :}**

**Even though I have a hectic work/personal schedule, I've been making sure I have time to write! Mainly because I love writing this and I have a lovely beta who doesn't laugh at all my terrible spelling mistakes and everything else! Enchanm3nt, I know I say thank you at every chapter but thank you for not complaining about how much I overwork you!**

**As always, Bioware ownownown the characters etc, I just mess about with them and make my own stuff up about them.**

**Thank you for your reviews, and follows. :}**

One year. The anniversary of her joining the guard. She could hardly believe it herself but there it was. So much had happened in just over a year. The Blight. The betrayal at Ostagar. Wesley's death… her meeting Hawke. Getting to Kirkwall. Working in Kirkwall. In the army things were always so… stable, even in war, she fought, and she kept on fighting, that is what she was best at. To have so much change in such a short space of time was strange to her. But she liked the guard. Liked the routine. That didn't mean she didn't still enjoy Hawke's company, though, she had a knack for finding trouble and excitement, of which the guard seriously lacked most days. Not that she wanted anything bad to happen just to give her something to do… but sitting on her hands all day was so dull. At least now that she was going to be Captain she could do some good, make changes…

It did mean she would likely have less chance to spend time with Hawke, however. She watched the secret mage from where she sat in the Hanged Man, watching her with a slightly sad expression. She would miss this, just being able to relax with a drink in the evenings, she had no doubts that most of her evenings onwards would be filled with paper work.

She considered Hawke a good friend, perhaps her best friend, seeing as she had so few. She would never forget the day that she met Hawke, outside the burning remains of Lothering with the darkspawn all around them. It look almost comical how the Hawkes had come running down the hill: the apostate, the rogue and the warrior, their mother and a massive hound, all charging into the fray to save the soldier and the Templar. Aveline had known right away that Hawke would not be someone she wanted to cross swords with, and so she had backed down, had managed to make her husband back down after he accused her of also being an apostate as well as Bethany; Hawke had admitted it, casual as you like, such fierce determination in her eyes, an emotion Aveline knew well, for it had been one she had worn for years too.

In the short hours after their meeting, Aveline had been surprised by Hawke, mostly because she had her sister to compare her to. Hawke didn't use magic, Bethany did, and quite effectively too. Hawke wore armour, Bethany robes. Hawke used two daggers, Bethany a staff. One sister had almost white hair, the other coal black. Opposites in almost every way, except they had the same noses, if it weren't for that, you'd never would have believed them to be sisters.

Watching the younger sister die had been… heart-wrenching. No mother should have to watch her child die, worse still, they had not been able to give the girl or Wesley any kind of pyre with the horde closing in on them. Aveline had watched the mother Hawke crying over her child, begging for her to come back to her, telling her living children it was their fault she was gone. Hawke had stepped in front of her brother, taking the brunt of the blame, and Aveline had been too distracted by it all to even realise her own husband was dying until he collapsed to the ground. She knew she wouldn't have been able to save him even if she _had_ noticed sooner, but it still stung that she had denied how bad things were. There had only been the next kill, the next step, the next breath as they fled, but time had stopped up on the ridge with the entire horde spread out beyond them as their loved ones died around them.

But it was those losses that had tied them together, brought them to Kirkwall. They were stronger having endured all of that, they were closer for it.

She could never repay Hawke for saving her life; if it wasn't for meeting her Aveline was sure that she would have perished alongside her husband that day. She idly stroked the shield resting against her chair, Wesley's shield. She had kept it all this time, she still wore it, used it every day; he was still with her in a way, still protecting her.

"Aveline, you're going to be nicknamed Broody Two if you continue staring at the table like that," Hawke said, pulling her out of her thoughtful reverie.

Looking around the table at all of the people Hawke had somehow managed to corral into following her, Aveline was a little dumbfounded. She was only beginning to understand how hard it was to be in charge of a large group of people; a quick glance at the bar had her staring at her guards, staying well away from their new captain. She wasn't sure how Hawke managed to lead and befriend such a varied, averse group. The troubled apostate and the naïve one, the ex-slave with a very large chip on his shoulder, the younger Hawke standing in the shadows and then blaming his sister for blocking out the sun, the dwarf who could bullshit anyone into believing he was actually an elf, and the pirate whore who'd fuck anything that so much as smiled at her. Of course Aveline knew Hawke well enough, but even that was probably not as well as she thought, the secret mages with a dozen more secrets locked away in her heart, one day those secrets would all come spilling out, and Aveline would be there to pick up the pieces for her friend.

"I am just thinking, Hawke, it is what we grown up people like to do from time to time, maybe you should try it," she said with a mock-tut, causing Hawke to smirk and then stick her tongue out.

Aveline naturally mothered Hawke; she was like the little sister she would have loved to have. Aveline was born to look after people; it was something that had been dug deep in her nature from long since she could remember.

Because of this, Aveline had been keeping a close eye on the men in Hawke's life, and the interest they seemed to be showing in Hawke. Although, it probably wasn't necessary; Hawke wasn't as oblivious as she appeared to be, she seemed to be trying to ignore Anders' advances in hopes that he'd take a hint and stop. It was the elf Aveline was more concerned about, already he seemed to be giving the ex-Warden murderous looks whenever the blond mage flirted with Hawke; it was a possessive, angry glare, one Aveline had been surprised to see on the elf's face. If it was out of simple disgust, or something more akin to jealousy, she could not say.

"Why think when you can drink, man hands?" the whore purred, pushing her breasts up as she usually did. Whenever the Rivaini woman would do that men's eyes would widen as they ogled at her. One time, Aveline had caught Anders staring and had smacked him around the head, much to the amusement of the others. Fenris' ears often turned a little pink as he tried to act like he wasn't looking, and Hawke… Hawke just laughed at the pirate's behaviour, laughing things off had always been her way of dealing with things that made her slightly uncomfortable.

Aveline didn't trust the slattern as far as she could throw her, not that she would ever try to throw the pirate; she didn't want to accidentally touch something unsavoury. She did not trust the whore, she was too hedonistic, too selfish, the complete opposite to Aveline. There had been moments where Isabela had surprised the pirate, like her freeing slaves, but for the most part the slattern was far too self-absorbed for Aveline to ever really have a care for her.

Guardsmen Donnic joined his fellows at the bar, chugging back a flagon before ordering another. She rather liked Donnic; he was a good guard, a good man. He was calm and kind… he was easy on the eyes too. But she was his Captain now, and even if she had only been a guard still, fraternization was frowned upon, or perhaps she had just told herself that so she didn't have to entertain such ideas. Wesley weighed too heavily on her mind for her to even consider another man, still, her stare lingered on him longer than a Captain or a colleague should look for, and she found her cheeks flushing a little as he let out that booming laugh of his.

It was something Hawke and her had it common, not getting romantically involved with anyone since arriving in Kirkwall. They worked hard, a rare thing for woman in this city to do. Brennan was the only other woman in the guard, something Aveline was eager to change. Even back in the army in Ferelden, when soldiers were called to stop the Blight, there had been few women.

But on a few occasions Aveline had caught Hawke watching the ex-slave, not as much as Anders, mind, but enough times that Aveline had now taken to watching Hawke and Fenris a little more closely. The night Hawke had played the lute for them, she had rushed out of the Hanged Man after Fenris, and when she came back in her cheeks were rosy but she carried on as if nothing had happened. Aveline had wanted to know what had made Hawke blush so, but of course, with Hawke being Hawke she hadn't given a thing away. It was the one thing that Aveline found aggravating about Hawke; sometimes it could take hours to get just a tiny morsel of information out of her. She certainly didn't open up easily, and it gave her an air of mystery about her that the men in the group seemed to find very attractive, as opposed to the pirate's 'heart on her sleeve' personality.

"Oh shut it slattern," Aveline snapped at the pirate whore, who had interrupted her thoughts.

"I knew you loved me, I knew it," Isabela chuckled, her intentions to antagonise Aveline quite clear. Hawke rolled her eyes at the banter, smiling slightly.

"Now, now ladies, can we not just enjoy a good night of drinking and enjoying ourselves?" Hawke shouted to them both, making some of the locals jeer with agreement.

"As you say, Hawke," Aveline nodded her head and smiled at her oldest friend.

She respected Hawke more so than most, not because Hawke was an upstanding citizen, oh far from it, but that she was working her way from the bottom just as she was, and Aveline had a feeling Hawke would make it to the top. She had a determination that radiated off of her body, spreading to her companions and making them feel it too. She was deadly and beautiful, yet she took no notice when it came to her looks, unlike Isabela who used them as a bargaining chip.

She averted her attention to Varric, who was busy explaining the game of Wicked Grace to Fenris and Merrill, Anders who was also sat with them was listening to the dwarf educate the two elves on the game, a smirk of amusement on his face. Aveline could sense that Anders was once the light of the party, but since the man had merged with a spirit unbeknownst to this world, even his smiles seemed like shadows. She didn't like how the mage looked at her friend, how she saw something more than lust in his eyes. It was as if she could almost see the spirit that he harboured looking at Hawke in a similar manner. Both Anders and Justice were curious about Hawke, she didn't know why or for what purpose but she would be keeping an eye on the mage nonetheless.

_Maybe a job for the newest recruits?_

Aveline was never far from work mentally, physically she was here in the tavern sipping ale and listening to Varric whilst he tried to get the elves to play his game that he often cheated at. But mentally she was sat at her office scanning through papers, even now when she was chuckling at Hawke and Isabela's banter and some of the songs the drunkards had started singing she was thinking about patrol rosters and strategy briefings and…

_And Donnic's luscious locks of hair and white toothed smile…_

"You know Glowy, if you stare anymore at Hawke's head, her brains might explode," Isabela drawled to Fenris, snapping Aveline out of her thoughts, thankful to the slattern that she had saved her from her inappropriate daydream.

Isabela was grinning at Fenris, choosing to mention it as Hawke had gone to order them more drinks.

"I was thinking and she came into my view," Fenris almost growled, looking extremely uncomfortable.

The conversation had grabbed the curiosity of the entire table with everyone looking between the pirate and Fenris, waiting for whatever it was to happen. The elf's agitation made Aveline cock her head slightly; she appeared to be right about him being more than a little curious about Hawke. "Oh really, and does she do this often? I'll have to tell her that she is hovering in the periphery of your broodiness," Isabela laughed, her eyebrow raised.

Fenris merely snorted into his tankard, though Aveline could see a slight pink tinge to the elf's ears. She smiled as she pulled on the last of her ale, of course the elf found Hawke attractive. However much they were the same, Hawke did not hide herself in heavy chainmail like Aveline did. Hawke wore small leather armour to help her hide in the dark, and the more and more she rejected men or and the more she closed herself away from them, the more the men seemed to become more curious. She didn't know whether Hawke did it intentionally, she didn't really care as long as Hawke was somewhat happy and didn't decide to take a leaf out of the whore's book.

Aveline turned to look where Carver was stood, chatting animatedly to one of the serving girls who was twisting her hair through her fingers and laughing at most things he was saying to her. _Maker, it must be a Hawke thing._ Aveline shook her head, disagreeing with her thoughts as she watched the youngest Hawke sibling glancing over to look at the small Dalish woman who sat by Varric.

Carver had lost his twin, that day they had met. And yet he did not seem as hardened by it like the eldest Hawke had been. He seemed almost free, and yet Aveline knew what it was like to hide her feelings from the world and put on a brave face every day. Maybe Carver didn't show how much the past had bled him out because he knew the world would spit him out whole if he crumbled. She knew Hawke would soon crumble without her brother; they had a mutual partnership where they would watch each other's backs, they knew each other without talking. Aveline craved that sort of relationship; she felt alone.

Hawke came back in, smiling, oblivious to what had just happened. Fenris was staring down into his tankard, a slight blush to his cheeks, whilst Anders shot glares at him, in what Aveline assumed was an attempt to ward the elf off of Hawke, considering Hawke didn't belong to Anders, or anyone, for that matter, it was an amusing sight.

"So, what did I miss?" she asked the group, but her eyes wavered towards Varric, the one who would tell her everything without a moment's hesitation.

"Isabela trying to goad broody to the point where he agrees to have sex with her, the same that's been happening the past week or so really," Varric said, shuffling the cards in his hands nonchalantly.

"Oh Izzy, I respect your determination," Hawke laughed, placing the tray down and grabbing a drink. Aveline knew how much Hawke liked a drink; the alcohol suddenly made her less caged and more herself without the doubts and the bravado.

Isabela did a mock salute and grabbed one of the tankards downing it in one. Hawke raised an eyebrow but didn't question the pirate's behaviour; instead she turned to Aveline with a smile on her lips. "So, not going to go to your new friends for a few drinks?" she asked, nudging her head towards the off duty guards.

"No, I see them enough as it is. I never see you these days," Aveline said, although she looked at the group of laughing guards wistfully.

"Yes well, I hope that doesn't become a constant thing, me and Varric are getting bored now there's no one telling us off or even acknowledging our diabolical plans!" Hawke exclaimed, throwing a wink at the dwarf whilst the rest of the group watched her in amusement. Hawke was born to be a leader; people listened to her effortlessly like her voice was a beacon. Men and women answered to Aveline of course, but that was because of her aggressive bark as she spoke to them, Aveline was a woman of authority and Hawke was a woman of mystery; two sides of a coin.

"As long as you two don't intend on getting Corf drunk enough to sign over the ownership of the Hanged Man to Varric, I think you'll be just fine without me," she said almost sternly, her eyes darting from Hawke to Varric accusingly.

"My dear Captain, how could you expect such debauchery from me and our lady Hawke?" Varric asked sincerely, Aveline knew by now whenever Varric was being sincere he was talking utter bullshit most of the time.

She snorted at the dwarf, her eyebrow raised and a strict smile ruled on her lips.

"How could I not?" she said, making Hawke laughed deeply.

She enjoyed Hawke's laugh, it was a rare thing to hear her real one. It was true, Hawke was a female who acted impish and light hearted in front of the group, she would chuckle and laugh at most things, but most of the time it wasn't her real laugh. Her real laugh reminded Aveline of chestnut trees and barley wheat on Ferelden's farm land, it was warm like soil on a summer's day.

"But Hawke doesn't really do that much bad compared to the good things she does, you know Aveline," Merril, the Dalish elf simmered into the conversation, the elf was deaf to sarcasm and most jokes and had once again got the wrong end of the stick. Aveline found her somewhat endearing at first, but it seemed Merril and Isabela had something in common. They were both okay in small doses, Isabela's vulgarity and Merrill's ignorance combined was a one-way ticket for a migraine. And yet Hawke could speak to them both for long lengths of time, she would drink with the whore and share stories with the elf and never give off the impression she was sick of them.

"I never said that she did a lot of bad Merrill, I just merely insinuated that her and Varric plotting together could be deadly, or worse," Aveline replied, kindly trying to dumb down her words for the small elf woman.

"Now what could be worse than those two together? With the dwarf's mouth and sister's daggers I'm sure they'd be ruling all of Thedas now, making their commandments and mocking the Maker as they go," Carver said, as he took a seat at the table, a bemused smile playing on his lips. He had obviously been listening to Merrill and instead of finding her tedious like Aveline, the young Hawke must have found the Dalish woman to be another type of endearing; it reminded Aveline of Wesley when he had tried to court her all those years ago.

"Oh dearest brother, I would make sure all my family would live amongst us in our palace," Hawke said, stroking her brother's hair as she stood behind him. Carver was the only one that got any of Hawke's affection it seemed apart from Aveline on the odd occasion. It was as if Hawke was scared that if she was touched or touched one of them she would implode. Aveline could understand her obvious distaste to touching some of the members of their party, she looked at Isabela for a moment as if the thought had brought her gaze there, but she didn't understand why Hawke took it so offensively. When she had questioned Carver, he explained to her about the night she was taken, and how she had returned a week later with nothing on her body apart from her skin, blood and dirt.

Of course, Hawke refused to speak about it, in fact it was one of the rare times that Hawke had gotten into such a frenzy that she was tempted to use magic. When Aveline asked her about what happened she flew into a temper, cursing her brother and glaring at the floor as if trying to singe the wooden floorboards of the ship. Aveline knew from then onwards never to mention it ever again. Truth be told, Hawke scared her that day she had never seen someone look so animalistic as she charged towards her brother and hit him squarely in the jaw. Carver never spoke of anything about his sister's past from that day on also.

Carver looked at her sister with a sceptical smirk on his face as he replied to her, "Well, I could live with that, feel free to do what you wish sister although you always do."

She took her seat next to Aveline, she had obviously understood whatever meaning was to her brother's words and in hushed tones she spoke with her brother, the group going back to their conversations knowing Hawke was done having her moment in the spotlight.

"You know I didn't plan for them to come along," she said quietly, looking at her brother apologetically.

"It was my idea and Varric's, I just actually fell asleep instead of pretending," Carver groaned, looking at his sister as if he had done something terribly wrong. Aveline couldn't understand much of the conversation but she knew Hawke well enough to know by now she had obviously got an idea in her head and they had tried to stop her and failed, so decided to accompany her. It was something that had become the norm for Hawke and Aveline didn't understand why they wasted their breath trying to sway Hawke's stubborn mind. Aveline had given up long ago trying to make Hawke do what they wanted her to, she just accepted what Hawke wanted to do and defended her in battle, her shield stopping the enemies swords even get near Hawke.

"Well you must have needed the sleep brother, the matter is dealt with now," Hawke said, sipping ale from her tankard as if was a cup of tea.

"Did you receive a payment?" Carver asked, but his tone stated he already knew the answer.

"No, but I did it more out of empathy than gold, although the boy's mother did give me a Dalish trinket, that may be some worth," Hawke said, her eyes looking round the tavern as if sensing trouble.

"Could I have it instead, I know Merrill's feeling homesick and-" Carver started to plead, but Hawke raised her hand in understanding.

"Consider it yours, I hope she likes it," Hawke said, a loving smile on her lips.

Out of the corner of her eye, Aveline saw a boy enter the tavern. Her guard senses told her that this boy meant no harm, but if she were to see the rapscallion take a sip of alcohol he would be feeling the end of the guard captain's boot as he exited the Hanged Man faster than a whore in the Chantry. The boy had the sash of a courier, which was a job well beyond the boy's age but nevertheless Aveline did not question it; child labour was as common as air in the south and a lot harsher than Ferelden.

The boy walked up to the table and stood looking at Hawke for a moment with eyes as big as sovereigns, he then cautiously walked up to her as if she was slumbering bear and with a small voice mumbled, "Are you the Hawk?"

Hawke looked at the boy with a small grin, trying to make the boy feel at ease. Aveline noticed how Anders had stopped doing whatever he was doing and was watching Hawke as if she was Andraste herself, Fenris had also taken to watching Hawke out of the corner of his eye, not scowling for once but trying to be subtle that he was watching her speak with the child.

"I am," she said, making the boys already big eyes go wider.

"I have a message for you, Serah," he said fumbling with the velum and passing it her quickly out of nervousness.

"Thank you, now what is your name?" she asked the boy, who was frozen to the spot as if he was scared or worried that Hawke may get angry with him in some way. Aveline found a lump at her throat at the sight of the poor child; Kirkwall was a shit hole, one she would clean up if it killed her.

"C-Callum Serah," he stuttered, still glued to the spot.

"Well, Callum, do you like chocolate?" she asked, a grin playing on her lips that was renowned for being infectious, and as Aveline looked back she saw a small smile accompanying the boys red cheeks.

"I don't know Serah, we have never been able to afford it, Mama says it's a waste of money," he said, looking confused as to why she would ask him such a question. Hawke went into her pockets and took out a small pouch, fishing out a small cube of chocolate. Hawke was also renowned for her love of chocolate; everyone knew her love for it.

She passed it to the boy who took it in his hands with wide eyes, and looked at her as if she had given him the deed to Viscounts keep. Hawke motioned her head as if to say well go on then and the boy took a small nibble, after a few seconds of tasting it he flashed a wide smile at Hawke who smiled back in kind. Aveline was so used to viewing Hawke on the battlefield; she forgot that when it came to children on animals Hawke had a sweet nature, completely different to the hard faced killer that hid in the shadows of the city.

"Good?" Hawke asked.

"It's amazing, thank you Serah! I'm going to save the rest for my ma and my sister! Thank you!" he said, rushing out to hug her. Hawke automatically froze, her eyes wide at the surprise touch and then she smiled, patting the boys back for a moment.

She passed him the pouch when he released her and said kindly, "Eat that piece for yourself, and take the other two for your sister and mother, tell them it was because you did a good job today," she said, and the boy blushed a bright red at her compliment.

He bowed down at her as if she was his queen and scampered out of the tavern, obviously running off home to share his treat with his family. Aveline smiled at Hawke widely, making her roll her eyes.

"What?" she asked, her eyebrow raised quizzically.

"Nothing, I just forget that you're rumoured to be one of the deadliest people in the city but you also give candy out to children," Aveline said, smiling at her friend as she huffed and took another sip out of her ale.

"Sister, that was your only chocolate for the month," Carver added, the rest of the group listening to Hawke and her brother once again.

"Yes, yes Hawke's adorable, so adorable I don't know whether to have sex with her or vomit all over," Isabela drawled, grabbing another mug of ale from the middle of the table.

"Hawke, you're perfect story material; stick with me kid, and I'll make you a star!" Varric said, his eyes twinkling. Aveline knew that he would be adding that moment into his novel, everything Hawke did or spoke about the dwarf scribbled into his story. When they had first met, he had tried to bribe Aveline into telling him some of background history, which she answered back with a swift kick up the dwarf's arse.

Hawke just rolled her eyes again and opened the velum, reading the message casually, not noticing the glare that Fenris was giving her just for merely reading a piece of paper. Aveline wished she knew what the elf's issue was, it wasn't as if Hawke was a staff carrying all magic halleluiah kind of mage, and Hawke would never let herself become as twisted as the magisters. Anders maybe, but never Hawke.

"We're going to be busy tomorrow it seems. I give it a couple of weeks until we've got the money, you know. Varric, how's your brother faring?" she said, looking at the letter again as if evaluating every word.

"He's just waiting for a moneybags investor to come along, and in a few weeks my lady Hawke, that will be you," Varric replied, winking at her. Aveline thought that it must have been one of the dwarf's ticks, aside from telling stories all Varric seemed to do was wink or tell coy jokes.

"Indeed, hopefully this expedition will be fruitful enough that I can have a house made out of chocolate, "Hawke said dreamily, looking up as if imagining it.

The group laughed at Hawke's daydream, clinking their mugs together, apart from Fenris. Fenris sat brooding in his corner, sometimes looking at Hawke and sometimes the table. Aveline made a mental note to ask Fenris what his problem was and took a pull of ale, looking wistfully at Donnic from the corner of her eye.

Hawke looked at her for a moment, whilst everyone else was drawn into debauchery of alcohol and clinking glasses and flashed Aveline a sad smile.

"Happy anniversary," she whispered before turning back to the group with a pretend smile plastered onto her face.

***Author's note- So I am going to be posting next week, even though I will most likely be working/sleeping/inquisition because my delightful beta has done some of the back log of my work. Seriously, she's amazing. **


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen- The prince of Starkhaven. **

"_**Maker preserve their stupid, stupid souls."**_

**Cannot honestly believe I've gotten this far but just thought I'd warn you guys I've been sorting moving into a bigger house. But don't worry, I've wrote in advance so hopefully my dear beta will aid me in keeping you guys updated. (I know she will, and I love her for it.)**

**Much love, to my beta Enchantm3nt, for her amazing help and sending me subways via the internet. You are a talented beta! :3**

**This is mainly for the guys who haven't got the game yet! Hope you enjoy it, I know everyone else will be too busy!**

**Thank you so much for my reviews, follows and favourites! :3**

_Blessed are they who stand before_  
_The corrupt and the wicked and do not falter,_  
_Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just,_

_Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow, _  
_In their blood the __Maker_'s will is written.

Prayer always had a way of calming him, of giving him clarity and peace of mind. It may have taken him many years to find that peace, and indeed to find the Maker at all, but now that he had he had never felt more content, that was, until his family had been murdered. Now prayer only gave him a momentary reprieve from his need for answers, for justice. He shifted slightly from his crouched position at the foot of the holy statue of Andraste and was about to return to his prayers when he heard the familiar clack of leather boots walking past him. He turned, and glanced at the owner of said boots, she was a small woman, her white hair tied high on her head in a messy bun. She always came to the Chantry to see the orphans, carrying that lute of hers and a small brown sack. But whenever he had tried to speak with her she had always vanished from sight, disappearing into the shadows. She was a mystery to him.

And yet he had heard the children whispering her name, gossiping quietly about her, wondering when her next visit would be. Little Alexander had even told Sebastian that she often brought them chocolate, but when questioned further they had all kept their chocolate smeared mouths shut, scared that their hawk would stop visiting them. That did not stop him from speaking with the Grand Cleric about her often, though.

The Grand Cleric had approached him some time back, when he had first seen the mysterious woman, giving him a knowing smile in return. "She is not quite the monster the locals make her out to be, is she Sebastian?" she had said, and that had been the first time Sebastian had realised just who the white-haired wonder was. He had heard the stories circling around the Chantry and out in the streets, the children might call her the hawk, but to just about everyone else she was simply Hawke. And not so simply Hawke was a dragon tamer, an ogre killer, a giant of a man, seven foot tall. He had laughed for some time after that as he realised that Hawke was simply a woman, a very charitable woman at that.

He had planned on engaging with her the next time she visited the orphans, but she had walked to the orphanage too swiftly, ignoring him entirely. In a moment of what he could only describe as annoyance, he got to his feet and decided to wait at the door, he would ambush her on the way out, his curiosity and pride demanded it. There was also the matter of wanting to _thank_ her for all that she did for the children, he had never seen them so happy in all his time at the Chantry.

He could hear the muffled sounds of a lute playing on the other side of the doors, and the shrill sound of children laughing which put a smile on his face. He was not good with children… no matter how hard he tried he could not keep their attention for very long, perhaps it was because his childhood was so different to their own, growing up in a castle of all places, but he liked to think he at least understood what it was like to not have parents, now that his were gone, and even before that he had been cast aside, sent to the Chantry, unwanted. Regardless, he was glad that at least someone was able to make them laugh and talk with them.

He heard Hawke laugh amongst the children who squealed in delight at whatever she was doing.

_A woman who enjoys the company of children and takes delight in hearing them laugh, not exactly a dragon taming giant. _

Then again, appearances could be very deceiving. Only his accent gave away that he was from outside of Kirkwall, his armour may have been a slight giveaway to his birth as well, but he rarely wore that inside the Chantry walls, opting, instead for plain brown robes. He had given up almost all worldly possessions from his old life. He was a sworn brother of the Chantry now… but every now and again he would remember his life as a prince, would remember his family, and the castle, and would think of all that had been lost, _taken_. There was a side to him, the side he had locked away, his youthful wildness, his disobedience, his passion and his thirst for trouble, that kept rearing its ugly head. Deny as he might that he wasn't that man anymore, it was a part of him, it was still who he was to a certain extent. Only a heartless man would not want vengeance for the murder of loved ones. But as a brother there was little he could do. And therein lay his problem, his mind was at war with what was right and what he wanted. Harder and harder was it for him to find his inner calm, he could not simply ignore or forget the transgressions done unto his family. He would not.

Worse still, his pride had been hurt when his entire family had been murdered and yet not a single assassin had been sent to finish him off along with them. He had been cast aside by his family, left in the Chantry to rot for all they cared, the forgotten prince. Even his enemies had forgotten about him, or just didn't care, perhaps they didn't see him as a threat. But surely if they planned to cease the throne for themselves he was still worth taking out? However, he was also relieved, relieved he still had his life, relieved he was not dead with them, relieved he had not been targeted. But he had so many questions. And very little in answers.

The door opened, making him jump slightly, he opened his mouth to greet Hawke but she beat him to it.

"Good day, your highness," she said nodding her head slightly.

"I- yes it is a good day," he said, his words fumbling together in the shock of her actually speaking to him.

"I saw your notice, on the Chanter's Board the other day, and I would like to inform you the deed has be taken care of," she said, her tone business like as she stared up at him.

He drank in the view that was Hawke as he processed the information she relayed to him. He found it incredibly unnerving that such a dainty woman could achieve such a task, for starters. Hawke looked somewhat small, fragile even. Yet her moon coloured hair with a dripping crimson streak gave her the air of mystery. A few years ago and Sebastian would have jumped on this woman in a heartbeat; he knew it to be true all too well. Even now feelings were swimming in the back of his head. His old friend lust had begun to whisper in his ear, followed by passion. He mentally waved them away as he tried to reply with a coherent sentence.

"I thank you, Hawke. I would have done the deed myself, but I have other ties that would be severed if I did," he said, his eyes darting around the Chantry.

"I understand, but those men were monsters and I have no fear of condemnation from the Maker," she said almost a little too boldly considering where she was currently standing.

"The Maker does not condemn us, he merely punishes us for our misdeeds," Sebastian said, defending his Maker to the death.

"But does that not mean the innocents are condemned for the misdeeds of the guilty? Or do the darkspawn know who's been naughty and who's been nice?" Hawke countered, her eyebrow raised.

"I apologise if I have insulted you Hawke, it truly was not my intention. You seem to make the children's week when you visit them," he said, trying to stray away from the topic of religion. He could tell Hawke had an argumentative witty streak that would have him almost cursing. He enjoyed listening to the debates that people had with each other, he found the banter something to relish in, even if he could not do it himself these days.

"No offense has been taken, your highness. I would not stop seeing the children over such a thing," she replied, her eyebrow raised in amusement that she had given off the impression to him as someone who was easily offended. Hawke was not what he had expected, he had always envisioned her as a huge man for starters, but he had also imagined her with a fiery temper that could obliterate an entire army.

"I am glad, so many forget the children these days. There is too much havoc in this city," Sebastian said, looking into her bright green eyes, "but I can take a guess and say that there will be much more havoc in your homeland at the moment," he added, noting her pale Ferelden skin.

"Indeed, your highness, there is. But I find their presence to be quite fun to be around, nobody really gives children credit these days," she said, her voice laced with wit and kindness entwined.

"Innocence is a rarity," Sebastian agreed, looking towards the door where he could hear the children not so slyly listening to them speak, "but the Maker blesses them with you, Hawke,"

"The Maker shall not bless me, for he knows who I am. Indulge me your highness, but should you not seek out your home now that you are the last of your line?" Hawke asked, curiosity plain on her face.

Her unorthodox reply to his compliment unnerved Sebastian but also confused him, but he had no time to ponder it as he answered her question, "I do not think it wise to go after such riches; I am a no longer a prince, Sebastian will do just fine as I have sworn myself to the Chantry," his answer was brief, for if he explained his true origins and reasons for being here, she would think he was nothing more than a harlot in male form.

"Well Sebastian, I hear that those who do not seek power are the ones who are worthy to wield it," she replied, her lips pursing as she said it.

"But those who do not accept it are sometimes the wisest of men,"

She looked amused for a moment, as if she thought that only she could read books in the entirety of this city. Sebastian couldn't really blame her for that, Hawke was a smuggler and worked jobs where killing was second nature, so no doubt she would not be amongst the well-educated groups of people.

"I find it rare to find someone who has such good taste in literature," she mused, pushing her fringe back to her ear so both of her eyes were on show.

"So do I, books grant great freedom," Sebastian agreed, running out of things to say.

"So do you wish for me to see if I can pick up a lead as to who hired the flint company?" she asked, changing to a new topic before the conversation got awkward. It seemed Hawke was naturally confident when it came to speaking amongst strangers.

"If you would be so kind as to do such a deed for me, I would pay you for it, of course," Sebastian said, shocked that the woman would so freely offer her aid.

"Well, I shall get my contacts to do some digging, but I cannot promise much. Obviously killing off an entire royal family took someone of great skill to commit such an act," she said, her eyes grim.

"Oh I wouldn't be surprised, my family were extremely arrogant about such matters," Sebastian said more to himself than to Hawke.

She didn't reply to his comment, maybe she found it a bit odd that someone would speak about their own blood in such ill terms; maybe she just didn't want to know. She gave him a nod instead, as an acknowledgement to his statement.

"I shall let you know when I have a lead, either way I shall see you next week," she said, about to take her leave.

"Next week?" Sebastian questioned, puzzled.

"Yes, when I visit the children. You don't have to skulk in the corridors you know," she said, with a knowing smile and walked off.

Sebastian found him staring at her as she sauntered away and even when she had left he remained staring at the door. He was awoken out of his daydream by a small child, tugging at his arm.

"Brother Sebastian, William would like something to eat now," the small girl chimed up to him. She was called Lilith, Sebastian knew her parents before they had died only a week ago of the wasting. He looked at the girl in confusion, her older brother William had also contracted the wasting like his parents, and from what the physician said he had not looked good, he could not even drink water his body had deteriorated that bad. They had given him a day at the most.

"Lilith, you know your brother is very sick, don't you?" Sebastian asked the young girl, wondering if it was some feverish childish fantasy where she would pretend he would be better tomorrow.

"Oh he was, but when she came today she made him all better with her shiny fingers," the little girl looked up at Sebastian with a serious face. Sebastian's stomach dropped as if it had been hurled off of the top of the Chantry itself. His face whitened and he did not even concoct a reply to the girl, merely rushing to where the orphans played and slept, his eyes seeking out the young lad who had been so close to death.

He found William sat on the edge of his cot, his feet swinging up and down the bed. He was still pale, but not as deathly as he looked a few hours ago. He had a big smile on his face as he looked up at Sebastian and for a moment he thought his drink may have been spiked earlier that day, or he was having a very odd dream.

Without another word to the orphans who were staring at him he bolted out of the room, fear and shock wriggling in his abdomen like yesterday's meal. He should have known what she was, what her statement meant. The laws were simple, and not to be broken. Her act of kindness would be her undoing. He practically jogged up to the Chantry stairs where the Grand Cleric stood, replenishing the candles on the grand altar with new ones.

"Grand cleric, I have a matter that will need the urgent requirements of the Templars," he said as he neared the old woman.

Elthina looked up at Sebastian with knowing eyes, as if she had seen the entire even take place. She asked him in a quite collected voice, "Explain yourself Sebastian,"

"I believe the woman that visits the children –Hawke- to be an apostate," he said quietly, although there was no one else around. The other brothers and sisters were doing their duties in the garden, the only other people here were the children, and they already knew and adored Hawke.

"Are you certain of this Sebastian, I would not like to cross Leandra Amell if this were a mistake," Elthina said, her wrinkled eyebrow tilting on one side.

_His mother always said that the Amell's were the best out of the nobility in Kirkwall. _

Elthina continued, "Especially someone that has already done so much for this city, to accuse someone of such a thing, especially someone of a reputation as hers,"

Sebastian looked into Elthina's eye and knew she was fully aware of what Hawke was, but both he and Elthina knew the good she did for the city, and what she had done for the boy today. They had requested a Circle mage but the Knight Commander refused to let one come to their aid, stating that the mages were under assessment and not to be disturbed. Sebastian sighed, he knew truly in his heart that Hawke was a good woman; one with pure intent and not one to grew weary and agree to the offer of temptresses.

"I must have been mistaken, you are right it must have been a coincidence, forgive me for my brashness," he said, making the old woman grin slightly.

"I've heard she is friends with a healer, maybe he was there with her," Elthina said, her eyes wide telling him to play along.

"Indeed," Sebastian said, leaving her with a small bow.

He looked back at the door where Hawke walked out of, and looked back at the Grand Cleric who smiled at him widely, as if reading his entire thoughts. He took his leave and ran out the door searching for the woman to at least thank her and assure her secret was safe. He scanned the stairs and the small square at the bottom with keen eyes, wanting to assure this woman that her kindness would not be repaid with her wrists clasped in chains. But she was nowhere to be found, even with his keen rogue vision he could not find her. He looked out into the small square at the bottom of the Chantry, deflated by her lack of presence.

_Next week it is then, Hawke. _


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen- Cullen. **

**Of course, I had to add our Templar that has been in all three games! Bravo to you Cullen, you sexy Templar, you! **

**Huge HUUUUGE thanks to my beta, Enchantm3nt, for helping me with this! I'm sorry I overwork you! **

**I hope that everyone is really enjoying their shiny new games! I nearly forgot to post due to it!**

**And a huge thanks to those who have read this, reviewed this, and followed/favourite this! You guys are amazing! Much love!**

It would not have been his first port of call, but it was a necessary one. His recruits were going missing and he needed to know why, he needed to know where they had gone, what had happened to them, and he needed to know sooner rather than later. It was not _uncommon_ for recruits to leave the Order suddenly and without much word, sometimes it simply wasn't for them, the Order was, after all, quite an undertaking. However, far too many recruits had gone missing in far too short a time for it to be a simple case of cold feet. And they were _good_ recruits with a great deal of potential, for them to up and disappear with no notice, no word, it was so very unlike them, which, of course, was why he had come in search of them.

It was typical for recruits to need time to adjust to their new lives within the Order, and it was not unusual for them to spend many a night at some of the brothels in Kirkwall. Cullen knew better than most how hard it could sometimes be to be surrounded by beautiful mage woman that you could not touch or really interact with. He could still see her face in his mind, still remember her smile. Amber Amell had become a Grey Warden and had stopped the Blight. The Tower had been… different after she had left, Cullen himself had been a little sadder too; he had missed her smiles and her laugh the most, he could almost have considered her a friend. Then, of course, things had become a living nightmare when Uldred led the revolt…

He shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts that always resurfaced whenever he thought about Ferelden. Those memories would never leave him; they would always haunt him, and so would she. But thankfully he had a job to do, something he could focus on. Kirkwall had been a breath of fresh air for him, had helped clear his mind after the events of Kinloch Hold. And despite the occasional nightmare or flashback he was doing much better and was glad to have come to the city.

That being said, he was not looking forward to having to speak to the mistress in charge of the Brothel known as the Blooming Rose. With a heavy sigh, he straightened his back and walked forward, in through the red door and up to the woman in charge. The girls at the front scattered as soon as they saw him, all fleeing to the back of the brothel in fear. The woman in charge was also startled to see him; most people feared the Templars, especially one of his station, but she covered it up well, pursing her lips, and letting a hand rest on her hip. He could already tell she wasn't going to be very forthcoming with answers. Cullen dipped his head at her. "Madam Lusine," he said courteously. "I have questions regarding some of my men and need to speak to some of your girls."

She made a tutting noise. "I don't think so, _Ser_." She almost spat that last part and Cullen stopped himself from wincing. "My girls want nothing to do with you lot, but should your men want something to do with my girls… well, that's up to them, isn't it? I won't be giving you names and nor will my girls if that's what you're after."

He sighed slightly. "I am investigating the disappearance of my men, if I could just speak to-"

"That would involve telling you who comes here and who they see, your Order gives us a lot of business, we are known for our discreetness, _Ser_. I'll not be tarnishing the Rose's name because you've lost track of a few of your own." She folded her arms. "If that's all?"

Reluctantly he nodded and left the premises. He had known this investigation would not be easy… but he had hoped it would prove a little more forthcoming than _that_. It was easy with mages, he was in charge of them, and they had little choice but to obey his orders, but out here, especially up in Hightown things were much, much different. He had little say here, and thus, there was little he could do. He stared up at the sky outside, its dark foreboding clouds growing darker every minute and with a weary sigh he headed down the steps toward the Docks and back to the Gallows. With any luck his recruits will have returned and he could finally find out where they had been.

He briefly considered turning back around in order to go to the Keep in order to ask for the guard's help with his investigation. He liked Captain Vellen; she was a hard woman but a just one. There was another advantage of including the captain in his search for his missing recruits: Hawke. They were good friends and often worked together. Perhaps Hawke could accomplish what he could not. She had, after all, already done work with the Templars before, helping Ser Thrask with an investigation not long ago. Her brother had even inquired into joining the Templars and Cullen was seriously considering taking him in; the Templars were in desperate need of new recruits, especially with so many going missing recently. He had no doubt that Aria Hawke could get the answers he sought, but he was… reluctant to speak with her. He had only really seen her briefly up close, but even that was enough to freeze him where he stood; her resemblance to Amber Amell was quite striking. They had their differences, of course, but their eyes were the same and that had been enough to turn his mouth dry. He had to constantly remind himself that Aria Hawke was not Amber Amell, that she wasn't even a mage despite her family being known for magic in their veins. But her resemblance was enough to make him continue his walk to the Docks rather than turning around for help. He would check the Gallows first before considering involving others in his investigation.

Part of his reluctance to involve others in his investigation came from his trust issues, ever since Uldred he had stopped trusting mages, had stopped seeing them as innocent people, sure, some of them had good intentions, but they were still dangerous, each had the potential to kill dozens of people. And he did not trust others as easily now either, the Templars in Ferelden were too soft on the mages; Greagoir allowed the mages to live even after Uldred's revolt could have left them possessed or corrupted. It had been a turning point for Cullen, all that he endured, all that he saw and heard… he knew his duty now better than ever, he would be vigilant and he would do his duty and find his recruits, preferably without outside help, especially if something sinister _was_ occurring.

The thought made him grit his teeth as he reached the Docks. He was about to get into the boat that would ferry him across to the Gallows when one of his Templar recruits stepped in front of him. It was rare to have women in the Order, just as it was to have women in the City Guard, and he was glad she wasn't one of the missing, she looked worried, however.

"Knight Captain," she said with a dip of her head which he returned. "I have news of one of the missing recruits. Wilmod was here not long ago. I spoke with him but he did not seem himself; he was acting… odd. He informed me that he was going to the Wounded Coast, and that should you ask after him to tell you that you could find him there," she said as quickly as she could.

He frowned at that. Wilmod had been missing for some time, a few weeks at least. Now he had returned only to leave again with a destination. It smelt like a trap but Cullen had no way of knowing just what sort of trap it was. His desire for answers outweighed the risk, however.

"I will go and investigate. Have Ser Thrask ready a regiment of Templars should I fail to return by nightfall," he said briskly, and the recruit nodded and hopped in the boat back to the Gallows.

He stormed back up the steps to Lowtown, not liking this at all. He did not want to rouse the Templars only for this to be an elaborate attempt to free mages from the Gallows, hence why he was going alone instead of brining a large force of men with him. If he got into difficulty though… He shook his head. He knew his duty. Wilmod was _his_ recruit. His responsibility. He would do this himself.

…

He found Wilmod's camp far too easily. He wasn't sure what he had expected. A fight, perhaps. Instead, what he found was Wilmod staring up at him blankly. Cullen was immediately on edge, looking around for danger, but at the same time he was thoroughly confused.

"Wilmod," he said evenly. "What are you doing out here? Where have you been?" he said as he narrowed his eyes and let his hand rest on the pommel of his sword.

Wilmod cocked his head to the side, those dark eyes of his almost looking past him, as if not seeing him, not caring to, and still he remained silent; it was unnerving.

"You have been gone for weeks. Where did you go? Why come back now?" he asked, getting more agitated by the second.

_Nothing._

"Wilmod, explain yourself," he commanded, looking at the boy who just stared blankly up at him.

Cullen was on edge, his nerves frayed, his patience at an end. He needed answers. He _would_ have them. He closed the space between him and his recruit, his tempter getting the better of him. He needed to snap him out of that blank stare of his, needed some kind of response. He grabbed the boy by the collar and hauled him to his feet and pushed him back toward the rock.

"Andraste be my witness, Wilmod! I will have the truth from you! NOW!" Cullen spat at him, finally getting a reaction out of the boy; his face paled, his eyes widening in fear, as he staggered back against the rock.

_Finally an emotion!_

"Mercy ser! Mercy!" Wilmod almost cried, his eyes growing wider at Cullen's outburst, "Don't hit me."

The words seemed rehearsed, they seemed wrong. Cullen could sense it now he was closer to Wilmod; he could feel the blood magic hug his body tightly like a mother with a new born babe. He thought it had been different in Kirkwall, he thought that the mages were under control. It seemed not. He launched his foot into Wilmod, knowing fully well that whatever had happened to him would strike back in fear or anger. Blood mages were created by fear and anger. Anger of oppression, of death, of having to go back, Cullen knew their excuses and pitied none of them.

Wilmod fell to the ground at the impact of Cullen's foot; he stared widely up at the knight captain as if in confusion, but Cullen knew. Cullen knew something was amiss, Cullen practically lived his Templar years in blood magic, he had become familiar with its stains.

"I will know where you're going, and I will know _now_," Cullen growled, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at the young recruit with the readiness to strike him down if the need arose.

Before he could act, he heard _her_ voice calling behind him. He had only heard it a week or so ago, and yet he knew her voice.

"So, not happy with just giving the tough love to the mages, branching out with recruits now are we, Knight Captain," Hawke's voiced chimed, making him turn for a moment to regard her. She stared at him coolly, accompanied by an elf, a dwarf and her brother Carver Hawke. Judging by the boy's disapproving glare he would no longer be considering joining the Order. The others in the party didn't look particularly impressed either, the elf had a scowl to rival the younger Hawke's and the dwarf had an eyebrow raised inquisitively, obviously curious as to what was about to transpire. It was Aria Hawke that held his attention the longest, however, those eyes of hers boring into him, icy and cold, even though her eyebrow was also cocked, a mocking smirk on her lips. He knew how quickly this could go from a confrontation to a fight with the Hawke woman. She had quite the reputation for helping innocents.

Hawke's green eyes narrowed slightly as she waited for his response, that eyebrow still raised in defiance. Her fingers twitched ever so slightly but to him it was a clear warning of a fight about to break out.

"That's the blasted Knight Captain, don't, Az," her brother muttered. Hawke looked over her shoulder at the younger Hawke, acknowledging his comment, but her stance remained hostile. One thing he knew for certain about Amell women was their damned stubbornness.

"This is Templar business, Serah Hawke," Cullen stated in a cold manner, wishing the woman would not get involved where it was not wanted. Admittedly she _had_ helped Thrask with his duties the other week but he did not need Hawke to meddle in which he knew best; he had seen blood magic at its very worst, and he would let it poison his new home as it had done in Ferelden.

Before he could turn back and deal with Wilmod, a manic laugh escaped the young recruit behind him. Cullen swirled round quickly, trying to gather his thoughts from the madness that was occurring, but Wilmod started speaking, his voice no longer his own.

"You have struck me for the last time, pathetic human. To me!" Wilmod called out into the sky as he backed away from the Knight Captain, a sadistic looking smile plastered upon his youthful face.

A blood red light blinded his sight and before Cullen even regained it he knew what would be stood waiting for him. Sure enough, n abominationstood in Wilmod's place, its arms outstretched and ready to attempt to take Cullen to the Maker's side. He turned to look at Hawke, and was shocked to see her face was not shocked nor disgusted but instead she got out her daggers in a calm manner, as if was about to have a sparring match rather than face a demonic monster of the Fade.

Before the battle could even begin, the abomination summoned reinforcements. Cullen readied his sword for the fight, the Chant of Light playing in the back of his head as it had done for almost eight years of his life. He charged with sword ready, brandishing it more like it was a part of his own self than a heavy metal weapon. He swung it towards the demon that was once Wilmod, but before he could put the abomination to its knees he heard the slash of daggers and the abomination was already on the floor.

_Maker__,__ had she become invisible?_

If it were not for the sounds of daggers slashing he would not even be able to tell that Hawke was fighting amongst her companions. She darted around her brother as their bodies were tied, stabbing any part of the abomination with a quick fury. The elf was fighting amongst them too; Cullen could almost taste the lyrium that the elf emitted as he flashed about the abomination that was attempting to make its way to Hawke. It seemed he was not the only man who was curious about the woman. The dwarf, the elf and her brother seemed to sense her more than see her, but still protected her as if she was precious. _Oh yes, he remembered the effect the last Amell had given him. _

He wondered for a moment if there was a man that was more than a brother in arms to Hawke but shook the thought off quickly as he smashed his sword into a demon's throat. No, women like Hawke seemed to be all business and no pleasure so to speak. Yet, he found these kind of qualities to be somewhat admirable.

The battle ended with a storm of arrows that the dwarf had released, and Cullen walked up to Hawke who very much like himself was covered in demon ichor and blood. She did not look too bothered by the grime that covered her and Cullen wondered how many times she had experienced such things.

"I knew, I _knew_ he was involved in something sinister," Cullen said to her, before she could comment anything more on his actions. It made him shudder to think that he wanted to justify his actions to her and yet he did it willingly. He hoped she would not think ill of him, he hoped a lot of things but none of them rarely happened. Did he have a small crush on Hawke? Was it because she reminded him slightly of her cousin? He started to doubt himself but snapped himself back to his duties.

A Templar had been possessed. He had never heard of such a thing, he had never dreamed of such a thing even his worst nightmares. A thing like this could label Templars just as weak as mages in the terms of demons; it could spurn morale for mages and diminish the Order. Cullen would not have that, he would not allow it to happen. And yet it unnerved him how easily they had obtained his Templars, how easily they too had succumbed to demons. Cullen had started doubting everything lately, when it was too late to doubt most things.

"How is this even possible?" he asked Hawke, but was really questioning thin air. He knew that Hawke would certainly not know of such things, especially if he didn't.

She looked at him softly for a moment, then glared at him with a scowl he remembered the Chantry mother from his childhood used to wear on her face.

"You shouldn't have been alone here Knight Captain," she said, scolding him.

Cullen blinked once. Twice. She wasn't concerned about the possessed Templar recruit, but that he was out here alone? Cullen wondered if this woman was mad, and even if she was he knew it was most likely the good kind.

"Luckily I had you. I thank you for your assistance, Serah Hawke," he said, bowing to the woman before him.

"Please, it's Aria to my friends," she chimed, her scowl completely ironed over with an easy smile.

_Friends_? It was an odd thought to Cullen. In one hand Aria Hawke held a cold bitterness but in the other she held friendship? This woman was a contradiction to all those who walked among her, her very spirit screamed that she was chaos and yet many followed her. Cullen eyed the dwarf and the elf, two spectrums of the races amongst Thedas and yet they stood together united under Hawke.

"Aria it is then. I have been following leads for two days now; I checked the brothel, hoping to speak to some of the, ahem, ladies, that worked there but they seemed uncomfortable by my presence," Cullen said, not wanting to explain to Aria Hawke that his mere being had scared away all of the girls and got him kicked out by the Madam in charge like he was some kind of villain. "Yes, I can see why the Knight Captain walking into a brothel that is so commonly used by his recruits would unnerve the women there," Hawke agreed, a smile playing on her lips as she replied. Cullen was unnerved by this woman, there was something underneath the surface, deeper than he could see and he knew for his own sake he wouldn't want to find out. The elf smirked for a moment at her remark, but the expression changed in a flash, resuming its normal indifferent glare.

"This needs to be ended, and fast," Cullen stated, the truth resounding from his like a never ending echo from an endless tunnel. He knew what Meredith would do if she even caught wind of the extremity of the acts that were being committed. She would destroy everything and anything associated with the crime, she would call upon the Divine and the march on Kirkwall would begin with an hour's notice. As much as Cullen admired Meredith and her ruling over the Circle, she was nothing but extreme when it came to matters such as this. If someone were to help him resolve the matter before it became out of hand, if maybe he could have someone from the outside to help play the problem down a little… He looked at Hawke and before he even asked what he knew he would end up asking she interrupted, a knowing smirk on her face.

"I shall look into it for you, Knight Captain, the girls will be a lot more talkative to little old me," she said dramatically, a sarcastic grin glinting on her lips.

Aria Hawke was a rare creature indeed, it seemed most of the Amell women were. Cullen could feel it in his aging bones that the name Aria Hawke would become famous across the Free Marches for years to come.


End file.
